


This Life

by coyg_81



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Boy smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lemons, M/M, Multi, Post-War, Romance, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesome - F/M/M, Triad - Freeform, pro harry and ron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 80,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyg_81/pseuds/coyg_81
Summary: Returning to Hogwarts to finish their last year after the war, Hermione and Blaise are made Head Girl and Head Boy. She doesn't want anything to do with Blaise's boyfriend Draco Malfoy, but he's pretty insistent about sticking around. How will Hermione cope?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. So, here’s another Dramionaise story for you all. I can’t help myself, I love that naughty little triad so much!
> 
> This was actually my first multi-chap fic I posted to AO3, and it was still a WIP when I hit writer's block with it! After re-reading it a few weeks ago I decided it could be better, so I pulled it down and have been working on it again. There are 16 pre-written chapters and I plan to post one a week, hopefully this will give me enough time to write the rest! 
> 
> This is a threesome fic - Draco/Hermione/Blaise. It’s pro Harry and Ron and most definitely anti Ginny! If this isn’t your thing, please click off this story. 
> 
> And as always… a huge thanks to my wonderful beta and friend LaBelladoneX. She truly is amazing and never fails to make me laugh with some of the comments she leaves me when working on a chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> ~ coyg_81 x

  


  


THIS LIFE

Chapter One

~•~•~•~

  


Hermione sat at her dining table in shock as the hand holding her delicate teacup began to shake slightly. Across from her sat Headmistress McGonagall, a small frown on her face. 

  


“Are you okay, Hermione?”

  


“I… um… I don’t think I can do it, Headmistress,” she answered after a few minutes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 

  


She’d just been told that she’d been made Head Girl for their forthcoming final year at Hogwarts. All students who missed their seventh year had been asked back to finish their education — if they so wished — but there was absolutely  _ no way _ she’d be able to work alongside Blaise Zabini, whom the headmistress had made Head Boy. 

  


McGonagall sighed loudly. “I feel that a Gryffindor Head Girl and Slytherin Head Boy would do wonders for house unity,” she explained. “This divide between houses — nevermind the blood superiority — is still prominent, even after the fall of Voldemort. People aren’t adjusting well.” 

  


Hermione cringed. She had no problem saying or hearing the very  _ dead _ Dark Lord’s name, but it still made her feel rotten, bringing back a flood of memories she was trying desperately to forget.   
  
It was unusual to hear McGonagall call a student by their given name, but she’d always had a soft spot for Hermione. Being Head of Gryffindor House, she’d watched the young witch closely, observing her struggle to make friends in those first few weeks at Hogwarts, adapt to her new life in the wizarding world, and later suffer the humility of boys like Malfoy taunting and bullying her. 

  


Not long after Hermione had started at Hogwarts, McGonagall had asked to see her after classes one afternoon. She’d wanted to ask the young Gryffindor how she was doing and getting on. From then on Hermione found an excuse to visit the professor in her office on the same day every week until it became a regular thing. They would chat for around an hour over tea and biscuits and McGonagall started to look forward to her visits.  She found she was becoming quite close to the girl and, after everything that had happened during the war and with Hermione's parents still not around, McGonagall had taken it upon herself to look out for Hermione Granger.

  


“You've seen the papers, you know hostilities are still running high on both sides. The best place to begin to dispel these prejudices is here at the school. Hopefully, in a few years, the younger generations won't know what it's like to live in the world as it is, or has been.”   
  
_ Damn it!  _ Hermione couldn't argue with that — not one bit. It was logical, and Hermione was a logical thinker. Still though… 

  


“I don't think I can do it, Headmistress, it's too much. He and Malfoy are always together and I  _ know _ Malfoy would be around the Heads’ common room quite a bit. _ I can't see him! _ Not after what happened. Surely you can understand that?” She finished quietly. 

  


It had only been a few months since she'd been tortured and branded by Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor and Hermione was still suffering from nightmares and panic attacks. She remembered Malfoy had just stood there... watching. Okay, so they hadn't been friends at school — far from it — but she’d thought he wouldn't have wanted to see one of his fellow classmates suffer like that. She was wrong —  _ he had _ — and it changed everything.   
  
“I'm sorry, Hermione,” the headmistress replied, her expression apologetic, “I've made Mr Malfoy a prefect again so you will have to deal with him too, I'm afraid. If anyone can do it, it'll be you, my dear. I have complete faith that you are the one to change things at the school. Now, I have spoken to both Mr Zabini and Mr Malfoy and they have  _ assured _ me that their behaviour over the last seven years will not continue. They are under very strict instructions and they know what is expected of them both. If you have any problems with either of them, I expect you to report it to me straight away.” She lifted her teacup to her wizened old mouth and eyed Hermione over the rim. She was waiting for a reaction, but saw instead the girl deep in thought so she continued, “Besides which, has Mr Zabini ever been vocal in his disapproval of you? As far as I am aware you’ve had no altercations with him.  _ And _ his family were neutral in the war, spending the majority of the last year in Italy.”   
  
Hermione took a moment to think about what McGonagall was saying; The headmistress was right, there hadn't been any run-ins with Zabini. He'd only spoken to her once, and that was during fourth year at the Yule Ball. 

  


She had been standing beside a table, waiting for Viktor to come back with drinks, when a pair of hands wrapped around her waist. She’d stiffened when those hands pulled her back into a hard, warm body, followed by a pair of lips blowing warm breaths against her skin. “You look hot, Granger. I knew you had it in you.” Those lips pressed just under her ear, on the soft skin of her neck, and then they were gone. She'd turned quickly to see Blaise Zabini strolling out of the hall and, with a backwards glance, he’d winked at her.   
  
So, no, _he_ hadn't been outright hostile towards her. Even all of those times during Slughorn's ridiculous Slug Club parties, where they’d sat opposite each other, he'd never spoken to her. She'd caught him looking at her a couple of times but put it down to her answering a question at the time, so everyone had been looking in her direction. She still wasn't happy about the current situation though; she didn't like Zabini by association of the company he kept but, if McGonagall had faith in her, that Hermione wouldn't let her down.   
  
With a sigh, she nodded at her headmistress. “Okay then. I will try my best, and I promise to come to you the _minute_ Malfoy upsets me.” 

  


_ Which will be under a week, _ she thought snidely; there was no way Malfoy would treat her any differently than he always had. 

  
“Thank you, Hermione,” McGonagall replied, exhaling a breath and rising from her seat. The ageing witch walked into the adjoining living room and towards the fireplace. Hermione had it connected to the Floo Network; even though she lived in a Muggle house, Kingsley had arranged it for her.  _ Perks of being a war heroine, _ she’d thought at the time. 

  


After the final battle Hermione had gone back with the Weasleys to the Burrow for a while. She’d wanted to be surrounded by people she loved — and who loved her — while they all came to terms with what had happened. After a couple of weeks though, she’d needed some time to herself to work through all the feelings and emotions she was reeling from, so she’d told Harry and Ron that she was going home until September and that she'd stay in contact with them both. They hadn't wanted her to go but, having sat them both down and explained her reasons, they’d seemed mollified.    
  
Her parents were still in Australia and still had no idea that Hermione was their daughter, having been Obliviated by her before she went on the run with the boys. Kingsley had sent an Auror over to work with the Australian Wizarding Ministry to try and find them but they'd had no luck up to this point. Hermione felt closer to her parents at her childhood home and so she’d returned, where she was surrounded by their belongings and pictures of the three of them in happier times. These small mementos made her feel safe. And, to be honest, there was so much sadness and grief at the Burrow after the death of Fred and others that she hadn’t been able to cope with it.

  
McGonagall turned back to Hermione before stepping into the hearth to say one last thing. “Hermione, please don't worry about anything. Take these next few weeks to yourself. This is going to be the quietest, most relaxed year you'll have at Hogwarts, I promise.” She smiled at the girl encouragingly.   
  
Hermione raised her eyebrow as if to say ‘yeah, right’ and bid goodbye to the witch. With a whoosh McGonagall was gone, leaving Hermione to collapse onto her sofa and exhale a huge breath. Quiet and relaxed? At Hogwarts? With one of the worst Slytherin snakes that ever lived hanging around? 

  


She didn't stand a chance.

  


~•~•~•~   


A couple of days later, Hermione was curled up on her couch reading the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History — which now included the first three years of their lives in the castle — when she heard a tapping at her window. Looking over, she saw a snowy white owl on the window ledge and crossed the room to let the beautiful creature in. For a second she thought it was Hedwig, who had been Harry’s owl, before remembering his brave familiar had died trying to protect him. A wave of sadness washed over her and she sighed as the owl swooped in, landing on her coffee table. As the owl settled itself after its journey, Hermione went to fetch a couple of owl treats, returning to place them down next to the majestic bird. 

  


Untying the envelope the owl proffered, she stroked its soft feathers as it ate its treats before pecking her finger gently in thanks and flying back out through the open window. Hermione sat back on the sofa and looked at the letter, the sender obviously not wanting a reply. It had a wax seal that she didn't recognise — laurel leaves around the outside arranged in a circular pattern, with the mythical Hydra in the middle. One head turned to the right, one to the left and several middle ones with their mouths open, ready to strike. 

  


Hermione had a feeling she already knew whom this was from — the laurel leaves and the creature a blatant giveaway. Opening up the letter and unrolling it, she was immediately impressed by the elegant script, but frowned as she read: 

  
  
_Hermione,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Looking forward to 1st September._ _  
_ _  
_ _BZ_ _  
_ __  



	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the book mentioned near the end of this chapter wasn’t published until 2012, but I’m fudging the timeline to incorporate it… sorry, not sorry!

****  
  
This Life

Chapter Two

~•~•~•~

 

The next morning Hermione awoke with a start, shooting up into a sitting position, her heart thumping hard. Sweat-soaked hair stuck to her head, and the bedding twisted around her legs. Looking wildly around the room in the dim glow of early morning, she quickly realised she was in her own bed and alone. She kicked her legs out to untangle herself, swinging around to place her feet down on the cold, wooden floor, and sat straight, placing her hands on her knees, concentrating on breathing in and out until she could feel her heart slow to a normal rhythm. 

 

_ Another nightmare. _

 

There hadn’t been one for about a week now. They always started the same, and she shivered as the fresh memory of it slithered through her mind like a venomous snake. 

 

_ She is lying on a cold floor in a huge, dark room at Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix Lestrange is carving letters into her arm with a cursed dagger. Screaming and turning her head, she locks eyes with Malfoy. He has a look of complete shock on his face, eyes wide and focused on hers, but he doesn’t make a move; he’s like a statue.  _

 

_ Then the scene changes; she’s standing up and Harry and Ron are in front of her. Bellatrix is behind, her dagger against Hermione's throat. As Harry and Ron surge forward to save her, the bitch starts slicing, and this is the point Hermione always jumps awake.  _

 

She hadn’t slept properly since the day she’d been tortured, the dreamless nights spent tossing and turning. 

 

The continued lack of sleep was starting to have an effect. 

 

She’d lost weight, her face hollow, and her eyes now sporting permanent purple rings; she felt frazzled and worn out, her energy levels depleted. Dreamless Sleep potion was having a negative effect so she’d stopped taking it, especially as too much of it was addictive.

 

Slowly Hermione managed to control her breathing, before she had a full on panic attack, and stood to make her way towards the en-suite bathroom. Turning on the taps of the antique roll-top bath nestled into the opaque bay window, she added a few drops of lavender oil. Brushing her teeth whilst waiting for the bath to fill, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.  _ I’ll definitely need a glamour charm on these dark circles _ . Undressing from her sleep shorts and tank top, she slid into the warm water of the bath, the calming scent chasing off the remnants of the nightmare _.  _

 

She tried to keep her mind blank and just concentrate on inhaling the aroma emanating from the water. Of course she’d read up about essential oils — her mother had  _ sworn  _ by them _ —  _ and they really did make her feel better _.  _ But, whether that was because of the connection to her mother or the actual oil itself, Hermione wasn’t sure. She  _ did _ know it worked for her and she already felt a little calmer. 

 

After shampooing her hair and scrubbing her skin with a loofa, she stepped from the tub, grabbing a fluffy towel from the shelf, and making her way back into her bedroom. Walking over to the bedside table, Hermione reached for her wand and used a drying charm on her hair, experienced now at taming the curls — when she could be arsed. She dressed quickly in a pair of denim shorts and a green t-shirt. Even though it was the colour of her rival house at Hogwarts, the colour had always suited her skin tone and — considering they were having a hot summer — she'd chosen shorts as jeans would be too uncomfortable in the heat. She walked over to her dressing table and sat down, staring again at the reflection in the mirror. She sighed loudly, shoulders slumping as she cast a glamour to hide the dark circles, and adding a tiny bit of bronzer to her cheeks for colour. That was it; she looked better than she did thirty seconds ago. 

 

_ Harry and Ron wouldn't suspect anything.  _

 

She was meeting her two best friends in Diagon Alley to pick up their school supplies for the last time. In the living room, she scratched Crookshanks’ head and bid him farewell — the lazy ginger beast not even raising his head to look at his owner. Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed her bag from the armchair and took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione spotted the bright red head of Ron Weasley outside Flourish and Blotts, Harry and his trademark messy black hair standing next to him. She made her way over and tapped Ron on the shoulder. 

 

He spun around and shouted her name before grabbing her up into a bear hug, spinning her round. 

 

“Oh, Ronald, put me down, you oaf,” she laughed. When she was safely back on her feet, she turned to Harry, who stretched his arms out for a hug as well. Hermione instantly stepped forward into his embrace; hugs with Harry were the best in her opinion. Letting her go, he held her at arm’s length — observing. She knew he would.

 

He had a worried look on his face, “You’ve lost more weight, Hermione, and you look tired. Everything okay?” She couldn’t get anything past him, he knew her too well.

 

Smiling at her pseudo-brother, Hermione answered as cheerfully as possible, “Of course, Harry, I’m fine. No need to worry about me.”

 

“Well, come on then, Mione,” Ron ordered. “We thought we’d make the first stop right here and get it over and done with, then have lunch,” he added with a laugh, knowing full well they’d be spending a fair bit of time in Hermione’s favourite shop.

 

“You’re in luck, Ron. I pre-ordered some books by owl last week so we shouldn’t be that long. Although it  _ would _ be so much easier if we had the Internet in the wizarding world,” she muttered under her breath. 

 

Looking confused he asked, “What’s the Intern-net?” 

 

Harry and Hermione giggled. They liked to wind Ron up by talking about Muggle stuff.

 

“Don’t worry, Ron. It’ll take too long to explain,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes in Hermione’s direction. 

 

They made their way into Flourish and Blotts, laughing like they normally did together. After only thirty minutes, they exited the bookshop — much to Ron's’ delight — and made their way through the throngs of people doing their last minute shopping. With only two more days until the start of term, parents looked stressed running around after their children, and everything seemed bright and loud. 

 

Hermione was grateful that most of the shop owners had decided to return to their businesses; Diagon Alley was well on its way to returning to how it was before the war. The three friends spent the afternoon wandering around, stopping at Eeylops to pick up owl treats and Slug and Jiggers so Hermione could buy some potions ingredients she needed. They finally stopped at a new restaurant that had opened up called  _ The Wild Dragon _ , immediately in awe of the decor as they stepped inside. Round, dark wood tables and chairs were set with green tablecloths and fine silver cutlery. A bar ran down the right side of the space with every drink imaginable. Hermione noticed one section behind the bar completely dedicated to Ogden's with around twenty or so different bottles of Firewhisky. They even had posh Muggle drinks like Hendrick's Gin and Grey Goose Vodka. It was a very upscale kind of place, and the atmosphere was warm and inviting — even if it did feel a touch...  _ Slytherin!  _

 

Although the restaurant looked full to capacity, they had no problem getting a table.  _ Perks of being war heroes and the Golden Trio _ , Hermione thought sourly. She really didn’t like the attention the three of them were having to deal with recently. They weren’t the  _ only _ magical beings to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters — they weren’t the only heroes. Why couldn’t the public see that? Hermione sighed, putting on a happy smile, and banishing her frustration to the back of her mind. Today was about being with Harry and Ron.

 

The best part of the decor, she thought, were the painted dragons that flew around the walls across ever-changing landscapes — from mountains and forests to lakes and beaches; they were mesmerising.

 

The food had been excellent as well. They were about to start dessert when Ron decided to go off to the bar for more drinks, giving Harry the opportunity to turn to Hermione.

 

“So, how have you  _ really _ been, Hermione? I know you want me and Ron to think you’re  _ okay _ , but I know better. Now tell me, how’s it been living back at home?” He lifted his spoon filled with cherry pie and cream to his mouth, waiting for her to answer.

 

She could have lied and told him everything was fine but Harry was the closest thing Hermione had to family, and she didn’t see the point in not being truthful. “To be honest, Harry, I’m still not sleeping very well. I’d another nightmare last night — first one I’ve had in about a week,” she spoke quietly, leaning her head in close and looking around the room to see if anyone was listening. A few patrons were throwing glances their way, not quite believing that the saviour-of-the-wizarding-world was out and about. None of them had been around in public much, preferring to be at home. 

 

In the first few weeks after the final battle, the public had hounded the three friends, wanting to congratulate them or — in the case of the press — demand an exclusive interview. Kingsley — the new Minister for Magic — had made a speech, imploring everyone to leave them all alone and give the three exhausted students some much needed space to come to terms with… well… everything. After all, they were still only seventeen and eighteen years old and had just fought in a war. 

 

“It’s been nice being back at home; I feel calmer and more relaxed. And McGonagall has visited a couple of times, that’s been nice,” she told him.

 

He smiled softly at her, his brows slightly knitted together. He was worried but didn’t want her to see that, “Dreamless Sleep still not helping?”

 

She shook her head sadly, “I’d be using it if it was working, but I still dream — even after taking it — and it’s harder to wake when under the influence… the nightmares, Harry… I… I’m finding them difficult to deal with but I don’t want to become dependent either.”

 

Harry sighed, he didn’t want to see Hermione suffering like this. Obviously they had all been through a lot, but neither he nor Ron had been tortured, nevermind the fact she had suffered at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange — the most unstable, blood-thirsty witch he’d ever met — and still reminded of it every single day. Every time Hermione looked at her arm, she was reminded. And then there was the situation with her parents — no one knew where they were. Australia was  _ huge _ and Hermione hadn’t specified  _ where  _ in the country they should move to. Plus — even if they  _ were _ found — there was a very probable chance the  _ Obliviate _ spell Hermione had used may be irreversible. 

 

Even Harry wasn’t having as many nightmares now; life at the Weasleys had been good for him. Once they’d gotten Fred’s funeral over with, and all had some time to adjust, things had started to settle down. Mrs Weasley seemed focused on him, Ron, and Ginny, constantly fussing and making sure they were fed and had enough sleep and rest. It had felt almost normal to Harry, even though there was always that underlying current of grief that permeated everything. George had moved into the flat above his shop after his twin’s funeral — he’d wanted to be on his own for a while — but all the Weasleys made sure to visit often to check he was okay. Ginny, whom Harry had rekindled his relationship with, had been a little strange while Hermione was staying with them, but seemed to relax once she’d left.

 

Harry knew there had always been some kind of jealousy on Ginny’s part over Hermione. His girlfriend seemed to resent how close the three of them all were. He, Ron, and Hermione had already established their friendship by the time she’d started at Hogwarts and, as a result, Ginny had always felt left out and on the sidelines — even though that wasn’t the case. They’d tried to include Ginny in everything. 

 

“I like that McGonagall's been looking out for you, Hermione. Makes me feel better to know you've had some company. I know you wanted time on your own but it was hard for me and Ron to just let you be, you know?”

 

“I know,” Hermione whispered, “but I really do appreciate it and, honestly, it’s been nice to be away from everything and everyone. No offence,” she added, smiling at him. “Anyway school starts in two days so I'll have that to concentrate on. I think keeping myself busy will help me to feel normal again, you know? I've done my wallowing so getting back into a routine will be good. With my Head Girl duties, I'm sure I'll have lots going on.” She brightened at the thought. Hogwarts really was like going home and she couldn't think of any place she'd rather be than there, surrounded by familiar things, the routine of lessons, and having her friends by her side for their last year at school. 

 

Yes, she definitely felt better about things. 

 

“And we're meeting on the platform at 10.45am, right?” He asked, pleased that she seemed happier than the last time he’d seen her. 

 

“Yes, I'll be there.”

 

Ron returned then, holding three glasses of what looked like Firewhisky. He sat back down, passing the drinks around with a cheeky grin on his face that made Hermione smile. She was glad they could remain friends after she'd told him she wasn't interested in starting a relationship with him. He hadn't been happy when they'd had  _ that _ conversation a few days before she planned to return home, but she’d explained that his friendship meant more to her than a relationship and, if he really thought about it, they didn't have quite enough in common for them to have a good one together. He had sulked for a day or so before conceding that she was right.  

 

“I thought one drink, and a toast to new beginnings before school,” the redhead declared, raising his glass towards them both. 

 

Harry and Hermione raised their glasses and, with a clink against each other's, the three chorused Ron’s toast. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione left Harry and Ron after they'd finished at the restaurant and returned home. After putting her purchases away, she sat down on the sofa with a cup of tea and a book she wouldn't be caught dead with at school. 

 

It was Muggle fiction, and questionable at best. The current one she was reading — for the third time — was the Bared to You series by one of Hermione’s favourite trashy romance authors —  Sylvia Day.

 

The way she described it was: a  _ smut fest full of the same characters and plots in nearly every one she read.  _

 

The Brightest Witch of Her Age indulged in this sort of story because, for once, she didn't have to use her brain to read them — she could switch off from everything around her and immerse herself in the pages. It was easy reading, plus she thought the sex scenes were  _ hot.  _

 

Hermione couldn’t understand why people thought she was a prude; she was a very passionate person so why people thought that wouldn’t transcend into her sex life, she didn't know — even though  _ technically _ she didn't have a sex life. She’d been getting herself off enough over the years to know what she liked and didn't like — she knew  _ exactly _ where she wanted to be touched. She also knew that it would probably be completely different when it was a man touching her with his hands and lips... and other things. 

 

With those thoughts in mind, Hermione  _ definitely _ didn't understand  _ why _ — at that very minute — as she was thinking about a man's lips on her throat and hands on her hips, Blaise Zabini’s note popped into her head. Pulling out of her reverie and looking over at the coffee table, she spotted the piece of parchment tucked under one of her potions magazines. She reached down, reading it over for the millionth time since it had arrived. 

 

What did he mean —  _ looking forward to first September _ ? Did that mean he was looking forward to working with her? Or living with her? Or, God forbid, he was looking forward to making her life hell for the next year. She'd nearly had a panic attack thinking about that last option when the note had first arrived. And she had thought about it  _ a lot _ since then, especially when she was trying to get to sleep.  _ Why _ had he written to her? She hoped to Merlin and all the gods that, if she had to share a dorm with him, they could at least keep it civil. After all, it was  _ Malfoy _ Hermione really had the problem with and, as long as he didn't hang around too much, she'd be fine. 

 

The stress of the note was making her anxiety flare again so she used her wand to light the fire and the oil burner on the coffee table, this time filling the room with the scent of jasmine — used for stimulating the brain to improve your mood and calm the nervous system —  _ apparently.  _

 

Sitting against the sofa with her head back, Hermione closed her eyes, feeling the warmth from the fire wash over her along with the smell of jasmine in the air. After a few minutes of just concentrating on breathing in and out — the quiet of the room, the warmth, and aroma — she allowed her mind to  _ calmly  _ sort through her current dilemma. 

 

Forgetting what McGonagall had said for the minute, Hermione knew she would need some time to settle back into school before being faced with Malfoy again — prefect or not. Blaise would have to deal with him for the foreseeable future, and she’d have to tell her roommate the blond wasn’t welcome in their quarters; he’d just have to accept it. 

 

Decision made, she put the note back on the table and walked to her bedroom to begin packing her things into her trunk, ready for the dreaded day. 


	3. Chapter Three

This Life

Chapter Three

~•~•~•~

 

Two mornings later, at 10.45am, Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express. Finding their usual carriage, away from the noise and stares on the platform, they sat down and made themselves comfortable.

 

“Feels weird being back here after everything. You know what I mean?” Ron asked with a sombre look on his face.

 

Yes, they did know. All three of them felt it. There would be fewer people coming back this year, and some faces from their own house they would never see again.

 

“Yeah, Ron, but you know what?” Harry answered him, “We won, and we owe it to those that aren't with us anymore to try and have the best time this year. They wouldn't want us to be moping and miserable. It's time to start putting the past behind us and start looking to a bright future.”

 

Hermione was gobsmacked. She'd hadn't heard Harry speak this way, so positive and upbeat, since... well, she couldn't remember when to be honest. Fifth and sixth year had been really bad and, with everything that followed after, it was hard to find positive moments during all of it. But it was done now and looking over at her best friend, she realised he was right; it was time to start looking forward.

 

“Yeah, mate, you’re right. Fancy a game of chess then?” Ron was easily persuaded out of his sad mood, and the boys set up the chess board between them.

 

Hermione had just leaned back into her seat and rested her head against the window, watching London go by, when the door began to slide open. Neville walked in followed by Ginny. Hermione suddenly felt a little nervous; she never really understood what Ginny’s problem had been with her all these years. She had tried to make friends with the redhead and include her all the time, but Ginny wasn’t accepting of Hermione. She was proving that now by wedging herself on the seat between Hermione and Harry and turning her back to her. She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and leant into Harry.

 

Hermione sighed. She couldn’t be bothered with Ginny right now, not when Harry had only just raised her mood with his little speech.

 

Neville sat down opposite Hermione and asked how she had been.

 

“I’m fine, thank you, Neville. I’ve just been relaxing and catching up on some reading. How have you been?” She heard Ginny snort at her answer but didn’t say anything.  

 

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Hannah, spending less time around Gran.” Neville smiled at his fellow Gryffindor and friend.

 

“Hannah Abbott?” Hermione asked him.

 

“Yeah, she’s a really sweet girl. I enjoy spending time with her. She decided not to come back this year, though,” he followed up.

 

Hermione started to stand while answering her friend, Ron also looking up at her movement. “That’s a shame, Neville, but at least you have us here with you.” She smiled warmly at her friend. She had a lot of time for Neville; he’d always been such a sweet boy and had _definitely_ proved the Sorting Hat right when he’d decapitated Nagini.

 

“Where’re you going, ‘Mione?” Ron asked her as she made her way to the door of the compartment. Harry glanced up from the chess board, and even Ginny was looking at her — even though she wore a sneer on her face.

 

“I have to meet McGonagall and Zabini in the Heads’ carriage.”

 

“Blaise Zabini?” Ginny piped up.

 

“Do you know any other Zabini, Ginevra?” Hermione asked sharply.

 

“Wait. So you’re Head Girl and Zabini is Head Boy? You’ll be sharing a dorm with him?”

 

Hermione could see Ginny’s face turning red. She had always thought that Ginny might have had a crush on the quiet Slytherin, even though she was dating Harry. Hermione decided not to let this opportunity go to waste; she wasn’t going to let Ginny get to her this year. And she was more than glad that she didn’t have to share a room with the Gryffindors anymore. She always heard when Ginny made sly remarks about her to Lavender and Parvati, but she supposed to — that was the point. Hermione was meant to hear what Ginny thought of her. Even sharing a dorm with Zabini had to better than the alternative.

 

“Yes, Ginny. The one and only Blaise Zabini. Do you have a problem with that?” She asked the quietly fuming girl. Harry turned to look at his girlfriend for her answer. He wasn’t a fool; he knew something was going on.

 

Through gritted teeth Ginny answered her, “No. No problem.”

 

Hermione looked at Harry and then Ron. “I’ll meet you both in the Great Hall later for the feast.”

 

She walked through the door and, as it was sliding closed, she heard Ginny say, “Snarky bitch”. Her snide remark was followed by the bellowing voices of Harry, Ron, and Neville, shouting at the same time, “GINNY!” and then just Harry, “I told you not to call her that.”

 

Hermione didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as the door closed and she had already started to make her way to the Heads’ carriage. Once she reached the door, she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

 

_Right Hermione, first snake to deal with. The other one can wait until much later._

 

She opened the door and stepped inside. The carriage was nice; it had a desk to her right with two seats in front and a maroon leather sofa opposite. The entire carriage was decorated in dark wood panels and, as her eyes drew level with the couch, she noticed Blaise Zabini sitting there.

 

Well, _sprawled_ might be a better word.

 

He was slunk back into the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. His left arm was draped across the back of the sofa, and he was looking down at the manicured nails on his right hand. Hearing the door open he looked up and locked eyes with Hermione. She gulped as he smirked at her.

 

“Hello, Granger,” he said, looking her over.

 

She froze for some reason, feeling her heart rate increase. Narrowing her eyes, looking straight forward, she answered through gritted teeth, “Zabini.”

 

“Really, Granger? Is that the best you can do?” He asked while standing, moving gracefully toward her. She backed up into the door as he reached an arm out and tucked one of her curly locks behind her ear.

 

“Your hair really is quite soft, isn’t it?” He asked, tilting his head looking down at her and smiling.

 

_What the hell?_

 

What was she supposed to say to that? This was the most verbal interaction she’d ever had with him. Even though she was a Gryffindor, she felt her courage seep away, feeling intimidated by the tall Slytherin towering over her.

 

“If you’re trying to scare me, Zabini, it won’t work.”

 

She might not have felt courageous at that point but she wasn’t going to let him see that. Best to start out on the right foot with this situation and show him she wasn’t scared of him.

 

Blaise took a step back and looked at her — _really_ looked at her. Hermione looked _terrified_. She was breathing hard, her face white, and she was staring at him with those wide brown eyes of hers.

 

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, Granger. _Damn it_ , I never want you to be scared of me,” he said, frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyebrows knitting together.

 

“Why did you send that note to me?” She whispered looking into his brown eyes.

 

He was unnerving her by being so close, answering straight away to save her anymore worry. “I wanted you to know that I was actually looking forward to working with you and getting to know you.” Still staring, he could tell she remained uncomfortable. “I wanted to start out the right way with you.”

 

“Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. I bet you thought I had some ulterior motive. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an arsehole, Granger. I’ve never given you any reason to think that I’d give you a hard time, have I?” He asked, turning from her and sitting back down on the sofa.

 

Hermione could feel tears forming at the corners of her eyes and she had no idea why. Blaise was extending an olive branch, but she felt scared. She was about to apologise when he beat her to it.

 

Taking a deep breath, Blaise caught her gaze. “Let's start again, shall we?”

 

She nodded, her eyes held prisoner by his dark brown ones. “Okay then. Hello, Hermione. How are you?” He asked.

 

Breaking his stare and blinking a couple of times she replied, “Hello Bl-Blaise.”

 

Stuttering over using his given name — having never used it to address him before — she continued, “And I'm fine, thanks for asking. How have you been?” She pulled herself away from the door moving to sit in one of the chairs by the desk, turning it to face him.

 

Blaise seemed to relax back into the sofa again before answering, “I'm good. I'm looking forward to a fresh start this year to be brutally honest.”

 

“Yeah, I'm kind of looking forward to a trouble-free year at Hogwarts, just for once.” She had a small smile on her face while saying this. It truly would be the only year she wouldn't be getting into all sorts of trouble with Harry and Ron, now that the war was over and _he_ was dead.

 

They chatted for a bit about what they thought they’d have to do as Heads before McGonagall entered the carriage, giving them both a folder containing everything they'd need to get started on their duties. First task was a meeting in the prefects’ carriage, so they could organise them into helping transport the students from Hogsmeade station up to the castle. This was the bit Hermione was dreading — coming face to face with the star of her nightmares most nights, Draco Malfoy.

 

As they left the Heads’ carriage to move down to the prefect’s one, Blaise noticed Hermione shiver slightly and watched as she pressed her fingers into her palms, concentrating on simply breathing in and out as calmly as possible. He leant in towards her and whispered quietly, “Don't panic, Hermione. He’s not here. He won't be arriving until later on tonight.”

 

He leaned back to look at her face. She seemed to relax, knowing instantly whom he was talking about, but also confused as to how Blaise would think she didn't want to see Malfoy.

 

“I—”

 

“Don't worry about it. We don't have to talk about it now. He won't be here until later so just calm down and let's go meet with the prefects.” Blaise exhaled and moved forward down the corridor of the train.

 

Hermione was grateful for this piece of news. She probably wouldn't have to see him anytime before tomorrow now. If he wouldn't be here until later tonight, there was a good chance she'd be tucked up in bed, with no chance of running into him anywhere in the castle and wouldn't have to face him until the following morning at breakfast in the Great Hall. She followed dumbly behind Blaise, lost in thought.

 

~•~•~•~

 

The feast had gone well and Gryffindor gained four new housemates at the Sorting. There were far fewer students this year, old and new. A lot of parents were still wary when it came to sending their children to the place of Voldemort's last attack. With the horrors still fresh in the public’s mind, they wanted to keep their families close to them. Plus the number of them who had lost their lives in the war meant far fewer students present this term.

 

Hermione met with Harry and Ron and they took their normal seats at the long Gryffindor table. She chatted with Seamus, Dean, and Neville, the three of them sitting opposite with Harry to her left and Ron on the right. Despite the amiable chat going on around her, she still felt a little uncomfortable with the animosity rolling off Ginny in waves every time they caught eyes across the table, the redhead with a scowl on her face.

 

They listened to the Sorting Hat sing a song about new beginnings and forgiveness but Hermione tuned out of it halfway through. After the feast had finished, she said goodbye to her two best friends, promising to meet them for breakfast in the morning. She and Blaise oversaw the prefects getting the students to the right houses and then made their way to their new shared accommodation. The walk to the sixth floor was enjoyable, both of them making small talk about the night’s festivities and their future duties.

 

Once they'd reached the portrait McGonagall told them to go to, they looked up at it. The headmistress hadn't told them who it would be, just where it was, so they were both surprised to see Professor Snape scowling back at them both. Hermione and Blaise looked at each other in shock before she began to giggle at her own shit luck. She had a Slytherin for a roommate, said roommate’s best friend was the worst Slytherin of all, and now she had to face the professor who’d hated her the most during the six years he taught her. True, he'd been on the side of light during the war, spying on Voldemort for the Order, but he still wasn't a pleasant person to be around or talk to.

 

“What, may I ask, are you giggling at Miss Granger, Mr Zabini?” Came the stern voice of Snape.

 

They both stopped and straightened up before Blaise answered. “Even now when you're — no offence here — dead, we’ll still have to deal with you everyday.”

 

Still glaring at them, and then looking skyward, Snape muttered, ”Just give me the password and be on your way.”

 

“Unity,” Hermione said quickly, and they both rushed inside away from the bad-tempered professor as the door opened.

 

Standing just inside the door, they took in their new accommodation. To the left was a seating area surrounding a huge fireplace. One long dark green couch was facing the fire, with an ornately-carved, wooden coffee table in front. At either end of the table was a comfortable looking dark blue armchair. On the walls, either side of the fireplace, were floor to ceiling bookshelves. To the right of where they stood, was a small kitchenette with a sink, cupboards above, and a small table. To the left of the kitchenette was a large table for studying. Opposite them were three doors. The Gryffindor emblem was on the left door, a Slytherin one on the right, and the door in the middle they guessed was the shared bathroom. The whole room was warm and cosy, decorated with cream coloured walls and plush rugs scattered around on the dark wooden floor.

 

“I can live with this,” Blaise commented, nodding his head slightly. “It’s nice and neutral.”

 

“I agree,” Hermione said, looking over at the tall, dark Slytherin beside her, before moving off towards her room. “I’m going to unpack.”

 

“Okay, Hermione, see you later,” Blaise replied casually, heading to his own room. Once they both reached their doors, they turned to each other, smiling shyly before entering their respective bedrooms.

 

Hermione leaned against the back of the door once she’d closed it and exhaled deeply. She didn't know what to think and was a bit overwhelmed by everything. Was Blaise being genuine? She didn't know. She hoped so. And Ginny; what was she going to do about _her_? Shaking her head, not wanting to think about it anymore, she pushed off from the door and took in her new bedroom.

 

In front of Hermione stood a four-poster bed made up with red and gold bedding — _predictable_. Either side were bedside tables with a small arched window above each one. To the right was the door leading to the bathroom with a small desk and chair to the right of the bathroom door. Over on the left wall was a fireplace and a comfy looking seat — perfect for curling up on with a good book — and to the left of the fireplace was a small wardrobe and chest of drawers. Her trunk had been placed at the end of the bed. Walking over to it she started to unpack, thinking about what Blaise had said about making a fresh start with each other. That wasn’t really a problem for Hermione. It was his best friend she was nervous about.

 

Once she’d finished putting the last of her books on the two shelves above the desk, Hermione decided to head to the kitchen to grab a drink.

 

As she opened her door, she came face-to-face with Malfoy, who was just walking through the portrait door grumbling about Snape by the sounds of it. She froze. So did he when he saw her standing there. They both remained staring at each other with wide eyes.

 

Hermione’s heart was racing, her palms clammy, and she began breathing heavily; she hadn’t expected to see him.

 

He swallowed and ran a hand through that signature blond hair of his.

 

“Gr-Granger,” he stuttered.

 

She kept looking at him, unable to form coherent words in his presence.

 

“Not even going to speak to me?” He asked, his eyes alighting with... what? She didn’t know.

 

Anger? Bewilderment? Indecision? Regret? Terror? Something else she couldn’t pinpoint?

 

He took a step toward her and Hermione stopped breathing, a rush of memories washing over her — Bellatrix marking her with the dagger, Malfoy’s face when she’d looked at him from the floor.

 

Hermione’s head started to spin.

 

 _Shit!_ She was going to pass out. Her eyes filled with terror as he stepped in front of her. The air felt thick, she couldn’t get a breath. She felt the colour drain from her face and her heart felt like it was going to explode from her chest.

 

“Don’t come any closer,” she gasped.

 

“I just want to talk to you,” Draco replied softly, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already looked. She looked utterly terrified of him. Frowning, he reached out a hand to her.

 

Hermione knew she was falling before it started to happen. The last thing she heard was Malfoy shouting her name just as her world went black.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

This Life

Chapter Four

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione felt the heavy fog in her head lift as she slowly came back to consciousness. She didn’t know where she was, or what had happened, so she opened her eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light before seeing movement in front of her. Blaise was sitting in the armchair to the left of the coffee table in their common room. 

 

“What happened?” She croaked, raising her head a little. 

 

“You passed out in front of Draco. He stopped you falling to the floor and placed you on the sofa. We thought it best that he leave; we didn't want you freaking out when you came to,” he told her. 

 

“Why aren't I in the hospital wing? Surely if someone passes out for no reason, you take them to Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione inquired quietly. She tried to sit up but the room started to spin, so she fell back against the arm of the chair, a pillow under her head softening the blow.

 

Blaise moved from his seat to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Draco told me what happened. After I heard him shout your name, I came straight out to see what was going on. I've seen enough panic attacks to realise what was happening and, knowing you, I knew you'd be mortified to wake up in the infirmary,” Blaise explained. He leant forward, arms resting on his thighs. “Care to tell me what made you faint, Granger?” He added softly. 

 

Hermione was surprised at his comment. She would've been horrified to wake up in the hospital wing and was shocked that Blaise would know that about her. “I… I don't want to talk about it, to be honest,” she replied shyly, eyes downcast. “How long was I out for?”

 

“Only a few minutes.” 

 

_ A few minutes? What?  _

 

That hadn't happened before! Maybe she did need to speak to someone about this. 

 

Hermione tried to sit up again and managed an upright position without the dizziness, looking into Blaise’s worried face. She'd never passed out before from a panic attack, or had any kind of fainting spell. It was too much seeing Draco like that, too much of a shock, and she’d frozen and panicked. Hermione knew she was going to have to try and sort herself out; she really couldn’t live like this anymore. 

 

“Why was he here, Blaise?”

 

She saw guilt flash across his eyes. “While you were in your room, I told Snape to let him in if he turned up tonight. I thought you'd gone to bed. I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't realise.”

 

She sighed, pulling her hand through the tangle of curls at the back of her head. “It's fine, honestly.”

 

Blaise knew it was far from fine; he wanted to know why she felt so strongly about Draco. So he had bullied her and been a complete sod for nearly her whole school life at Hogwarts, but to pass out shaking and scared just because he’d said he wanted to talk wasn’t right. 

 

“I want to understand why you had that reaction. Please, Hermione, tell me. I promise I won’t say a word to Draco. I know you don't have to trust me, but you can, I promise.” 

 

He sounded so sincere and she had no reason to disbelieve him after their conversation on the train. 

 

Turning to face Blaise, Hermione placed her legs on the floor, her knees almost touching his. She sighed and rubbed her hands down her face. 

 

“It’s to do with what happened at Malfoy Manor a few months ago,” she started. “Has Malfoy told you what went on?” Hermione stared at him, awaiting a reaction. She was fairly good at reading people and judging whether they were lying or not.

 

“He has told me everything, Hermione.  _ Everything _ . How you, Potter, and Weasley were caught by Snatchers and brought to the Manor. How he’d been called to identify you all and didn’t. He also told me exactly what happened with Bellatrix and that Dobby saved you all.”

 

She winced hearing that name — as she always did. Thankfully her friends knew better than to mention the psycho witch! “Anything else?” She enquired.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Nothing, I suppose, that’s it. I’ve been having terrible nightmares and panic attacks since then, and all I see is Malfoy standing there looking down at me while I’m being tortured. He did nothing to try and help me, Blaise.  _ Nothing _ . He just stood there and watched, like he was almost frozen. I’ve been at school with him for six years, and I know we have an awful relationship, but I didn’t think he’d want to see physical harm come to me.” 

 

It became evident to Hermione that Draco wasn’t aware of what Bellatrix had done to her arm, or she was sure Blaise would’ve mentioned it. She was very careful about keeping it covered around anyone — her friends included — and even though  _ they  _ knew, they never brought it up. Hermione was ashamed of the angry lettering on her left forearm. Everytime she saw it her stomach swooped and bile rose in her throat. Even with the death of the witch in question, the scar left on Hermione was still very red and prominent. She had been to visit various Healers over the summer, and they’d all said the same thing — there was no way to get rid of it. The dagger had been imbued with old magic and they didn’t know how to remove the curse, so she was stuck with it. She certainly didn’t want Malfoy knowing and mocking her for it. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m sorry you had to go through that but I think you need to hear Draco out,” Blaise answered apologetically, swallowing thickly at hearing her version of things. “There’s so much more than you know… about… what happened that day.” 

 

She was about to answer, but he cut her off. “I know you want me to tell you, but it’s not my place to do so. Draco wants to talk to you himself. But you should know this, Hermione,” he continued seriously, “what happened to you that day has left him… well… he isn’t in a good place right now. He did everything he could to stop what happened, but forces bigger than him prevented his getting you out of there.” 

 

Hermione stared unbelievingly at what Blaise was saying. “You are right, though; your relationship with him up until now has been horrendous. I know what he was like and how he treated you but I  _ also _ know that he’s changed and that there are reasons for  _ everything _ .” 

 

Hermione couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. 

 

Blaise ignored it, taking both her hands gently in his. Hermione’s breath caught as his warm palms covered the back of her cold skin. 

 

“You may not believe me, and he’d kill me for telling you but…” He gulped before deciding to continue, “what happened to you broke him, Hermione. It’s completely destroying him and I can’t see any way to help. You… you could, just by hearing him out. And I know I’m asking a lot… but… when you’re ready… please sit and have a conversation with him.” 

 

His thumbs were now rubbing across her palms gently as she looked from their joined hands up to his eyes and back to their hands again. She was trying to slowly process what Blaise had said. 

 

She looked back up at him again, her wide eyes frightful and filled with confusion. 

 

“I don’t know, Blaise. I just don’t know if I can face him.” She sighed, at a loss on what to do. Her thoughts and feelings were all over the place, making her feel disjointed, like she was outside her body watching herself. She was Hermione Granger. She always had a plan and knew what to do, but she felt so lost and confused all the time now. 

 

“Hermione.” He smiled as she watched the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, giving his face a boyish look. Somewhere in the back of her clouded mind, she noted that Blaise was a good-looking wizard. 

 

“Yes,” she whispered.

 

“This year is a new beginning… for everyone. I don’t mean you and me, as we didn’t have anything to do with each other before so, as far as I’m concerned, we have a blank canvas on which to build a friendship but… you need to speak to Draco. I think it would be good for you two to clear the air. He’s not the enemy, Hermione.” He reassured her by squeezing her hands and smiling again.

 

She still didn’t know how to sort the thoughts running riot through her mind, but she wanted to try — for herself and for Blaise. Maybe, if she could tolerate talking to Malfoy, it might actually bring a small amount of closure for her. Plus she had an idea that she and Blaise could potentially become good friends, but that wouldn’t happen with the current situation. 

 

Hermione pulled her hands from Blaise’s grasp and stood up. He moved at the same time to make sure she wasn’t going to fall after her earlier episode.

 

“I’m going to bed, Blaise. Thank you for today.” She walked off towards her bedroom and, as she opened the door, she heard him speak.

 

“I’ll make sure you don’t have to see him tomorrow, Hermione, but please think about what I’ve said.”

 

Without looking back, she muttered that she would before stepping into her room and closing the door quietly behind her.

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione loved to get up early and sit by the Black Lake to see the sun rise over the mountains in the distance. It was so peaceful at this time of day and there was something she adored about watching the sun come up — the promise of a new day beckoning. She could forget about everything and just let herself be, clearing her mind and thinking about nothing if she wished to. This morning found her sitting in her usual spot, just off to the right side of the lake not far from the water’s edge, leaning back against an old tree stump and thinking about Blaise and what he’d said the night before last. 

 

He’d told her Draco had changed, and that she didn’t know  _ everything  _ that had happened the day she, Harry and Ron were brought to Malfoy Manor. She didn’t know what had happened to her had broken Malfoy so much that even Blaise didn’t know how to help him. 

 

To say Hermione was confused would have been a massive understatement. She was having trouble reconciling the Draco Malfoy she knew with the one that Blaise had described. It sounded like they had been discussing two different people. 

 

And, as promised by the quiet Italian, she hadn't seen Draco anywhere yesterday — not in the Great Hall, not in classes… although, she'd been the first there and had sat at the front. 

 

She’d known though. When he’d entered the classroom and taken his seat at the back, the hairs lifted on her arms, and the tension in the room was palpable. She took time in packing up her things at the end of every shared lesson with him and, by the time she’d finished and turned to leave, he’d already left. 

 

She sighed; there was no way to avoid him for forever — as much as she wanted to. With these thoughts racing she didn’t hear anyone approach, jumping at the sound of her name being called by one of the wizards currently plaguing her thoughts. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco crossed the still dark expanse of ground toward the lake. Blaise had told him he would probably find Hermione there but warned him to go easy. As he neared the water, he could just make out the familiar silhouette, sitting against the oddly shaped tree stump and facing away from him, long curls cascading down across her shoulders. She had her head tilted up, looking into the distance at the orange, yellow, red, and purple light of the sky slowly erupting behind the lowest mountain top and starting to bathe everything in a dark golden glow. Subconsciously she seemed to be pulling blades of grass from the ground and letting them fall. She looked to be deep in thought so he approached slowly, not wanting to startle Hermione. Closing the space but stopping just short of her right shoulder, he quietly called out.

 

“Granger.”

 

Hermione jumped, her head quickly turning at the sound, warm brown eyes rising to connect with his cold grey ones in the dim light. She felt her breathing quicken slightly, but managed to keep it under control. She wouldn't pass out this time. 

 

“Malfoy,” Hermione sighed, turning her head back to the sunrise. The curved edge of the sun was now just visible against the ridge of the mountain and reflecting across the lake. 

 

“May I sit?” He asked.

 

Blaise was right; she needed to do this, to have this talk with him. But, more than that, she was a little curious about what he had to say to her. Seven years of bad blood between them both and she didn’t have a clue how to start being civil to the arrogant wizard. She thought about all of this before answering. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

Hermione felt him move and take a seat on the ground to her right, so she peeked at him through her peripheral vision. He had his knees pulled up against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around his shins. She didn’t say anything. She just kept staring at the moving sun and pulling blades of grass between her fingers. They sat like that in silence for quite a few minutes before she heard him sigh.

 

“I don’t know where to start,” he stated quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace or calm he felt seeping into him. He seemed to relax a little and moved, so he was also sitting cross-legged, his hands resting on his thighs.

 

Realising what she was doing with the grass, she pulled her hands up to her lap, turning her head to face him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Malfoy? You obviously have things to say to me, although… I’ve wrung my brain the last couple of days thinking about what they could be. Unless it’s some jibe or rude remark about my blood and inferiority, what could you — Draco Malfoy, great pure-blooded, egotistical, arrogant bully — have to say to the much-hated Mudblood?” She asked him, her voice growing louder. 

 

The silence had been killing her and the tension had reached breaking point by the time he had spoken. She deflated a little looking at his face. He looked anguished, guilty, cringing at her words. Brows pulled together, he exhaled deeply before speaking.

 

“I… I… just wanted to… you know… say…” He scratched the back of his neck and brought his hand around to rub at his face. He turned to look at her, his penetrating grey eyes staring into hers. “Shit, Granger. I just wanted to say sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry for everything.”

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Where Hermione was thinking about not seeing Draco in class… the doors in the classrooms are at the back so, of course, she wouldn’t have seen him enter the room. Just thought I’d clear that up in case anyone mentions it.


	5. Chapter Five

This Life

Chapter Five

~•~•~•~

 

Draco had said it so quickly and quietly, Hermione thought she’d misunderstood at first. 

 

“I’m sorry?” she asked incredulously, “What did you just say?”

 

Still looking at her, he saw her cheeks flush as her wide caramel eyes sparkled bright with shock. He was determined she should know just how sorry he was — for every slight he’d thrown her way, every mean word, for choosing the wrong side during the war, for not doing more to help her at his home. The list went on. He just wanted to say everything that was hammering in his chest to get out, but the words wouldn’t come. He was warring with himself — an internal battle of how much to say without frightening her off. But he also needed her to know — one hundred percent — that he would never be responsible for causing her pain or upset ever again. In fact, he’d rip apart  _ any _ bastard who tried.

 

“Yes. That’s what I said. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened between us since the first day we met. I realise what an enormously arrogant, prejudiced wanker I was, and continued to be for the next seven years.” He didn’t let his gaze drop from hers; she  _ had _ to know he was sincere about his apology.

 

Hermione believed him. For some reason, somewhere deep inside her, she knew Malfoy was telling the truth and he really did mean it. She couldn’t understand why she knew, but she did — it was in his eyes somehow. A feeling she was unfamiliar with was settling within her, and for once it wasn't revulsion. She found herself relaxing to some extent with the weight of his sincere apology sinking in. Hermione thought about how hard ‘sorry’ must’ve been for him to say but it still didn't excuse his behaviour at the manor that fateful day. 

 

“I accept your apology, Malfoy. I do,” she said, not able to look away from him. Hermione always was the forgiving type but she couldn’t _forget_. She was bewildered by this conversation, it was not what she had been expecting. “But… I just can't forget what happened that day with your aunt, you didn't even try to help me. Why? _Why_ didn't you do something? Do you hate me _that_ much that you could just stand there and watch as... _she_ _Crucio’d_ me again and again, and then…” She broke off. 

 

Draco felt numb; feelings inside him slowly began to ebb away — hope, belief, a chance for a better future. He wanted to reach for Hermione but decided against it. She wouldn’t forgive him for his part in the war, even if he told her  _ everything.  _ So there was no hope for a chance to put things right. “And then what? What were you going to say, Granger?” 

 

Instinctively she wrapped her fingers around her left forearm, just at the crook of her elbow. The action didn't go unnoticed by Draco, his eyes drifting to her covered limb. 

 

“Nothing.” She replied, “It's nothing.” 

 

Draco frowned but didn’t want to push after what happened the other night, so he decided to let it go for now. “There's so much about that day you don't understand. You don't know the whole story.”

 

Hermione felt a stab of anger pulse through her. 

 

_ How dare he _ ! 

 

How  _ dare _ he try to justify himself like this. 

 

With her heart beating wildly, and breathing fast, she started on him furiously, “Tell me then, Malfoy, what  _ exactly _ do I  _ not _ understand? Was it the bit where I was lying on your ballroom floor being tortured and enduring the worst physical pain of my life? Or being called the vilest names and spat at while you just stood there like a coward and did nothing? What  _ don't _ I understand?” She was trying to keep her temper under control but, like the rest of her emotions over the last few months, she was having trouble trying to contain it. 

 

Seeing her eyes flare with fire, her chest heaving with heavy, angry breaths, he decided to try a different approach. “Granger, please, I'm not ready to talk about it and — trust me when I say — you don't want to hear it. Not yet, okay? One day soon, you and I can sit down together and have this conversation, but not right now. I just wanted to come down here, apologise, and hope to Merlin that we can come to a truce. The war is over. We’re finally free and I really wanted this last year at Hogwarts to represent a new start. I can't do that with the still present animosity between us.” 

 

Hermione could feel tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, anger subsiding at his words. She didn't want to cry in front of him, but this conversation was dredging up too many memories of horrible things she needed to forget. How could she move forward with this man when he'd been the cause of so much pain and anguish in her life? Hermione believed he was sorry, but too much had happened. 

 

He interrupted her thoughts before she had a chance to answer him. “We need to move forward, to let the past go. Everything that's happened — all of it — has to go, Granger we both need this, I know we do.”

 

“How?” Hermione wasn’t sure if she was asking how they could move forward or how she could try because, honestly, she didn’t have a clue. 

 

He knew that question would be next but he didn't have an answer for her either, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. “I don't know… but… I want to try.”

 

“I’m not sure, Malfoy,” she answered him nervously. She'd need some time to think about everything he had said. 

 

“There's something else.”

 

They hadn't broken eye contact through this whole conversation until now. Draco sighed and looked out over the lake, thinking how beautiful the sunrise was, and regretting not spending more mornings out here appreciating it during his time at Hogwarts. The view really was breathtaking. He'd spent too many nights staring at the sunset from the Astronomy Tower during sixth year — his place of solitude before his life had gone to hell — but he’d never seen the sunrise, and certainly not from the edge of the lake sitting next to Hermione Granger, almost begging for her forgiveness. Like her, he was really going to miss this place, up until sixth year he'd felt safe here. Something else to add to the list of disappointments in his life. 

 

Tentatively she asked him, “What else is there?”

 

He sucked in a breath, feeling the cold air travel through his chest. “Let me start by saying that, even though I know you don't trust me and I'm going to have to prove that you can, I  _ do _ trust  _ you _ .”

 

“Excuse me?” She asked disbelievingly, even though he was right — she didn't trust him at all. She didn't even  _ like _ him. How could he trust her with whatever he was about to say? 

 

“Yes, that's right, I trust you with what I'm about to tell you. I know you're not a gossip.”

 

How did he know her so well? It left an uncomfortable sensation inside Hermione as Draco turned to look at her once again. 

 

“It's Blaise. Most people assume that he and I are  _ just friends _ , but it's more than that.” He dropped his gaze to the ground, picking blades of grass like she had been when he'd walked up to her. He was nervous about this. 

 

“Malfoy, if you're about to tell me that you and Blaise are… together, then there's no need. I figured it out fifth year.” She smiled to let him know it was okay.

 

The blond gaped at her, his mouth forming a shocked ‘o’. He was lost for words, although he should have figured that she’d know and obviously hadn’t said anything to date. 

 

“How?” he whispered.

 

“It wasn’t hard, to be honest. Anyone with a brain can see it — the looks you two give each other, how close you are. I’m surprised no one else noticed. It’s uncommon for Slytherins to act that way, yes?”

 

“Err… yeah, I… I guess so. I feel like I should explain the situation to you.” 

 

Hermione thought about this for a minute. Did she want Malfoy opening up to her about any aspect of his private life? The last thirty minutes had been some of the strangest in her life. First an apology, now this? Decision made, she answered him, “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ve known for three years and I haven’t said a word, even when I so easily could have. Every time you were nasty to me the thought popped into my head to out the pair of you, but you’ve got me figured out correctly, Malfoy. It’s not my business to be blurting out to anyone. Whatever has happened between us I wouldn’t lower myself to that level for petty revenge. Anyway, Blaise has never been openly hostile to me. He doesn't deserve that sort of treatment.”

 

Draco flinched at this. Blaise didn’t deserve it but he did? Merlin, he couldn’t even argue that with her because he knew he deserved her ire. Blaise was the complete opposite — a Slytherin who could be as cunning and manipulative as Draco, but he would never do anything to hurt Hermione. In fact, every time Draco had a run-in with her over the years, Blaise would chastise him for it. 

 

“As I said earlier, Granger, I want us to start again and try to begin putting our terrible past behind us. I want you to feel comfortable around me because I need Blaise and he’s sharing living quarters with you. I just… I want us to be amicable, at least. I can’t have you passing out every time you see me. Doesn’t do much for the confidence, you know? Take some time to think about it, as I know you will.” His trademark, arrogant smirk made her grin slightly. 

 

Was this man for real? Less than forty-eight hours ago she collapsed in front of him thinking he was going to hurt her. Now, he’d apologised, wanted to be her friend, and confided in her about the nature of his relationship with Blaise. She felt overwhelmed and couldn’t get a grip on her roiling emotions. Even though they were outside, she felt claustrophobic. She needed to get away from him and think. 

 

Standing up, Hermione looked down at Malfoy, still sitting there, his eyes roaming up her body, staring intently at her. “I need to think. About everything you’ve said, okay?” 

 

“Yes, of course,” he replied immediately. “I had a feeling you were going to say that anyway. If you want to talk some more — about anything — let me know, alright?”

 

“Umm… yeah, sure, I’ll… do that.” She picked up her bag and started to walk back towards the castle while Draco stayed sitting on the ground watching the sunrise. It had lightened considerably in the time they had been talking, the sun had risen high into the sky, and the warm light glowed across the lake. Suddenly she stopped. 

 

“Malfoy?”

 

He turned his head, curious to hear what she had to say. “Yes?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

His forehead creased in confusion.

 

“For the apology,” she explained. “Thank you. It means a lot. I’ll be in the library tonight, so feel free to drop by to see Blaise... if you wish.” She gave him a small departing smile before continuing back towards the castle. 

 

Draco breathed a deep sigh of relief; that conversation had gone better than he’d ever expected. It was going to take time for Granger to trust him, to try and move towards a friendship with him. He could wait though; he was a Slytherin after all, and would patiently wait for her. Blaise had put some good groundwork in for him, trying to make Draco seem not so... monstrous. She’d opened up to Blaise two nights ago after her fainting episode, and he had told Draco what she had said, about her nightmares. He’d never forgive himself for the fact he featured in nearly all of them and  _ had _ to begin making it up to her somehow. 

 

A few minutes later, he heard the bell ring to signal breakfast so he stood, brushing down the backs of his trousers from the damp grass, and started to walk back towards the castle. His thoughts turned to Blaise and how they’d come to be in a relationship.

 

~•~•~•~

**_Three years ago..._ **

 

_ They'd been friends for as long as Draco could remember. He couldn’t think of a single memory that didn't have Blaise Zabini in it. Draco’s mother Narcissa was good friends with Blaise's mother Elena, and they’d spent a lot of time at each other's homes over the years. Elena was a wealthy and beautiful Italian witch that men fell head over heels for, hence the reason the woman was going through her sixth divorce. Draco didn't understand why the women were friends as they had nothing in common and yet, their friendship had lasted this long.  _

 

_ Draco fondly remembered lots of holidays spent at the Zabini villa on the outskirts of a quaint Italian wizarding village called Lipomo. It was only a few miles from Lake Como — which was gorgeous — and an hour away from the Muggle city of Milan. The villa was a fair size, tucked into the hillside and very secluded. Those times were some of the best of Draco's life. His father never accompanied them on these trips so Draco felt free to be himself there. He laughed at the memory of Blaise catching him kissing a girl against a tree in the spacious grounds of the villa. He was only fifteen, and the young witch — Mikaela — was the daughter of one of Elena's friends and had been visiting that day. As his arms had slid around her waist, and he leant in to deepen the first kiss he'd ever had with a witch, he heard Blaise shout, “Draco, get your hands off her. My mother will kill you if she finds out.” _

 

_ He’d reluctantly released the witch who stood there pouting at him for having stopped. “Sorry, love, but you heard the man. Run along now.” He’d smirked at the girl; his plan to make Blaise jealous had worked perfectly, judging by the look on his face. Draco had been developing feelings for his best friend over the past few months and he was sure Blaise felt the same way, he was just a little more forthright about showing it. Blaise was in denial — Draco was positive — so his reaction at catching him kissing the cute witch had left Draco with a half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face. Mikaela had ‘tsked’ at him and stomped away towards the villa, muttering in Italian.  _

 

_ “What did she say?” Draco asked inquisitively. _

 

_ “She called you an English pig,” he answered, standing there with his arms folded across his chest. “And she'd be right, wouldn't she, Draco?“You are a pig. What do you think you're doing kissing Mia?”  _

 

_ “Why, Blaise? Are you jealous?” Draco fired back sarcastically, placing his hand over his heart in a dramatic fashion.  _

 

_ “Don't be an idiot, Draco. I'm serious. What was that all about?” _

 

_ Draco was fed up with this attitude. He had made it clear how he felt, and Blaise just kept brushing him off. Well, he wasn't going to stand for it anymore.  _

 

_ “You  _ know _ what that was, Blaise. That was me trying to make you jealous, and I seem to have succeeded by the anger I can feel rolling off you.” He replied arrogantly, moving away from the tree and towards the boy in front of him. “I want you, and I know you want me. Why do you deny it?”  _

 

_ He stepped closer until he was no more than a foot away from Blaise. Draco was already half a head taller and stared down into his brown eyes which had widened at the sudden closeness. The blond was sure that, if Blaise had a lighter skin colour, he'd be blushing like a nervous bride right now.  _

 

_ “Draco, don't,” Blaise cautioned.  _

 

_ “No, Blaise. No more ‘Draco, don't’ nonsense. It stops now. Just admit how you feel, for Merlin's sake. I can't take it anymore,” he ordered him harshly.  _

 

_ “What about the other thing, Draco, ah? What are we going to do about that?” Blaise asked. Draco was right — he did want him — but they had a small problem standing in their way. _

 

_ “I've told you before,” Draco said, reaching out a hand to capture one of Blaise’s and bringing it to hold over his heart, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I promise.”  _

 

_ His cool grey gaze stared into the warm brown one of the boy that Draco was sure he loved.  _

 

_ The next thing he knew Blaise had pulled his hand from the blond’s and pushed him back into the tree he had just been up against. Before he had a chance to say anything Blaise’s lips had come crashing down onto Draco's, their tongues sliding against one another, hands winding simultaneously around the back of each other's necks. Blaise’s fingers tugged gently at the soft strands of Draco’s hair, forcing his head up. Heat flared through both of them as Blaise pushed hard up against Draco, their erect cocks rubbing against each other. Their hands were everywhere, sliding down each other's necks, across their chests and around the back of both their arses, grabbing hard. Draco slid his hand around Blaise’s waist and down, palming his erection through his trousers. Blaise moaned into Draco’s mouth, their lips moving in sync, tongues wrapping around each other. It was raw and animalistic until Blaise suddenly pulled away. They stood facing each other, both breathing hard. Draco's face was red, his eyes dark, filled with lust.  _

 

_ “Blaise,” Draco breathed out between pants, reaching for him once more.  _

 

_ “Not here, Draco, come with me.” Blaise grabbed his hand and led him through the villa to his room. They’d spent the rest of the day kissing and exploring each other’s bodies; they weren’t ready for anything else at this point.  _

 

_ That came a few weeks later when they were in Draco’s bedroom, discussing their ‘problem’. That conversation had got them both so turned on that one thing had lead to another. They were nervous, so it had been slow and gentle and explorative. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world; Draco didn’t give a shit that Blaise wasn’t female, he loved him, and that was all that mattered.  _

 

_ ~•~•~•~ _

 

Draco was still caught up in the memory as he walked into the Great Hall and caught Hermione’s glance in his direction. He couldn't help the small grin that appeared at the corner of his mouth, noticing she did the same before turning back to her breakfast. 

 

He and Blaise had been inseparable all of their lives, and now they were even closer. He was the only person in the world, apart from his mother and Hermione, that Draco trusted implicitly. He was glad to have the Italian in his life, and now they could both deal with their little problem — making Hermione Granger theirs. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter Six

This Life

Chapter Six

~•~•~•~

  
  


“So what, Blaise? We just make ourselves indispensable to her? Make sure we're always around if she needs us and even if she doesn't? _ That's _ your great plan?” Draco asked his lover who was stretched out on the bed.  _ Fuck he has a good body _ , he thought lavisciously. Blaise was lying in nothing but his tight white boxers, hands under his head, flexing those defined abs across his stomach. His crossed legs were toned and muscular, as were his arms, and that chocolate-coloured smooth skin of his was delectable. The man was sex on legs. Those full sensuous lips of his — Draco loved having that warm mouth wrapped around his cock. 

 

He was pulled from his carnal thoughts by the man in question answering him. 

 

“Yes, Draco. That's exactly what I'm saying. She's vulnerable right now, and I don't want Weasley thinking he can break her down and convince her to be with him. You know what a manipulative fuck he is. And, of course, there's Ginevra. If that red-headed bitch thinks she can treat our witch the way she has been? Then, yes, we need to be around Hermione as much as possible — to make sure Weasley doesn't get into her head, and to protect her from the she-weasel.” Blaise said it so matter-of-factly; this should be obvious to Draco. He looked over at his blond-haired lover who was sitting cross-legged, leaning against the left post at the bottom of Blaise’s bed. He was wearing his boxers and a loose Slytherin Quidditch shirt, trailing his hands through his fine platinum hair and letting it flop back in his eyes. Blaise sighed. He loved Draco's hair right now; it was just the right length for running his hands through and grabbing on to as they fucked the living daylights out of each other. 

 

Merlin, he loved this wizard so much. 

 

“I don't want to overwhelm her, Blaise. She has a lot to think about after our talk this morning. She said she needs time to sort it out in her head. For fuck's sake, I'm the star of her nightmares and now I only have the next nine months to get her to fall in love with me and—”

 

“ _ Us _ , Draco. She's got to fall in love with  _ us _ . Don't forget that. I need that witch in my life almost as much as you do.”

 

Draco snorted at the interruption and what Blaise had to contribute. Yes, he knew Blaise loved her, but he didn’t think it was in the same way Draco did. He'd been with Blaise for a long time, and he had no doubt that he loved him and wanted him in his life, but it was different with Hermione. The way his body tingled just thinking about her; it was a feeling Draco didn't think he'd ever get used to, but it was certainly one he enjoyed very much. It was overwhelming at times. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

From the first time he'd seen her — storming into the Slytherin carriage aboard the Hogwarts Express looking all haughty and with her nose stuck in the air, asking about Longbottom's toad — Draco had felt  _ something _ for Hermione. Being eleven years old he hadn’t recognised what that was, but she’d certainly made a lasting impression because, over the years, he’d often dreamed of her and found himself staring across the classroom and Great Hall, and any place she happened to be. 

 

Even with the bullying and prejudices he threw her way, those feelings were still there. He finally recognised what that was when she entered the Great Hall the night of the Yule Ball. Watching her walk in, looking so beautiful and on the arm of that thick-headed, Bulgarian Quidditch player, Viktor Krum, Draco had been ready to explode with anger and jealousy. He remembered he’d started walking over to them when Blaise had pulled him back asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. 

 

He hadn't been able to breathe, he was shaking and, before Blaise knew what was happening, Draco had pulled himself free and, through clenched teeth, exclaimed he was going for some fresh air. He'd stormed off and Blaise hadn't seen him for the rest of the night. Deciding to just let him be for a while, Blaise had remained at the Ball and observed Granger for the rest of the evening. 

 

The young Italian wasn’t stupid; he knew how his best friend felt about Hermione Granger. During their first couple of years at Hogwarts, Draco had mentioned the bushy-haired witch to him so often, Blaise had started observing him closely. More than once — in fact,  _ hundreds _ of times — he'd caught Draco staring at her when he thought no one was watching. Every time Draco was horrible to her, Blaise could see behind his mask — the haunted look in his eye, after he'd said or done something to her, as she screamed that she hated him and called him a pureblood prick. He knew  _ why _ Draco did it, but it hurt to see him so upset afterwards. 

 

Draco’s father had been telling him the same thing his entire life — Muggles were disgusting, diseased individuals with dirty blood, and that witches or wizards born to Muggles were most certainly inferior and did not deserve their magic. 

 

So imagine Draco's surprise when he'd found out in his first year the girl he had a certain soft spot for, and was top of every class they shared together, was a Muggleborn. She certainly wasn't stupid, and she  _ definitely _ didn't look dirty. That summer he'd told Lucius all about Hermione Granger, and he'd received a beating for it. His father was disgusted that a ‘Mudblood’ was top of the class and made it clear to Draco it wouldn't be tolerated. 

 

Even so, Draco continued to be bested and awed by the insufferable Muggleborn through the years. Then came the Yule Ball, and Draco knew for certain what he was feeling. Blaise had figured it out by then and had also developed feelings for the witch, on top of the emotions he was also experiencing concerning his best friend. Hermione had punched Draco in third year over the Buckbeak incident and, even though he'd never say so to Draco, Blaise thought he had deserved that punch. He'd acted like a right git all year, but it had made Blaise sit up and take notice of her. Most people tended to avoid Draco, apart from his own house — who treated him like royalty — so it surprised him how unaffected Granger seemed to be towards Slytherin’s prince and how she never backed down from him. She was a little spitfire, alright. 

 

The night of the Yule Ball, after Draco had long since disappeared, he’d noticed Hermione standing by herself. He hadn't meant to walk up behind her and hadn’t realised what he was doing until he'd already bent down and breathed in her scent. He shivered at the smell of her; it was intoxicating. He’d whispered something about how hot she looked in her ear, kissed the soft skin of her neck and sauntered away, before looking back for her reaction. He wasn’t disappointed; the look on her face was priceless when she realised it was him. She’d never mentioned it though, and neither had he. Not even to Draco. 

 

Draco and Blaise had never ‘officially’ spoke about their feelings towards the Gryffindor.  Instead, they had come to a mutual, silent agreement to carry on as though nothing had happened. Knowing each other's feelings for Muggleborn Granger only served to bring them closer. 

 

They finally sat and discussed everything after Hermione and her friends had stormed into the Ministry and took on Death Eaters to supposedly rescue Sirius Black. They'd been more than worried when they'd heard about Hermione being hit with a curse from Dolohov. 

 

You could have cut the tension at the Manor with a knife, what with Voldemort having taken up residence with his hoard of deranged Death Eaters, so Narcissa had managed to get Draco out to Italy a few days after school had finished. 

 

After Blaise had caught Draco kissing Mikaela, their own kiss had followed and then they’d finally talked. Both admitting how they felt about Hermione and how they felt about each other.

 

Draco had jumped up in excitement as he'd declared, “All we've got to do is make her ours, Blaise. Not yours, or mine, but  _ ours _ . By Merlin, whatever  _ this is _ ,” he gestured, waving his hand between himself and the slightly shocked wizard sitting on the bed, “it's real, Blaise. You and me together with Granger. It's perfect. That's the plan — make Granger ours.”

 

Blaise had to agree with him before pointing that she absolutely detested Draco, that they were on opposing sides of whatever was about happen in the wizarding world, and his idea would never work. 

 

The quiet Italian needn’t have worried though, as a week later Draco and his mother had been summoned home by Voldemort. Blaise had wanted to go with him, but Draco refused and told him he'd see him soon. 

 

By the time Blaise had seen Draco again some weeks later, everything had gone to shit. Draco now bore the sickening Dark Mark on his left forearm along with a task to kill their Headmaster as soon as possible. That first night back at Hogwarts, Blaise had just held Draco on his bed and let him cry. 

 

As dawn was breaking the following morning, Draco had pulled out of Blaise’s embrace and stared hard at him, a scary and determined look on his face. 

 

“Whatever happens now… whatever happens next, with this,” he spat, pointing at the vile snake and skull tattoo adorning his once porcelain skin, “we keep her safe. No matter what, we keep her safe.”

 

Blaise didn't even think before answering, knowing full well  _ who _ Draco was talking about. “Of course, Draco. We’ll do everything we can to keep her safe, no matter what might happen.” 

 

They were both scared out of their minds and helped get each other through the next year, Blaise knowing that Draco had to fix that fucking vanishing cabinet. If he didn't do as Voldemort had asked, Draco would be watching his mother's slow and painful demise — he'd been promised that. 

 

The war had followed, they’d lost all contact with Granger once she’d disappeared with Potter and Weasley. They didn't know where she was or if she was alright — until the night they'd all been brought to Malfoy Manor, and Draco had been called to identify them. He couldn't give a shit about Weasley but, if he identified him, his crazy Aunt Bella would know who the other two were. He didn't like Potter any better but knew he was better off alive than dead. If rumours were true, he was the only one able to kill the Dark Lord and, as for Hermione, he was just glad she was alive. He'd almost sagged in relief upon seeing her but then remembered why they were there — they'd been caught by a group of Snatchers. He remembered the look on her face and how scared she had been. The memories began to assault his scarred mind before Blaise pulled him back to the present.

 

~•~•~•~

 

“So what happened this morning? At the lake? You haven't said a word about it all day,” he enquired, quirking an eyebrow. He couldn’t ignore Draco's sullen mood he’d been in since breakfast anymore. 

 

Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair again — a subconscious habit. “I… I couldn't get the words out, Blaise. Fuck, it was all there. Everything that happened at the Manor, how I felt, everything. And then when I sat down and saw her looking at me, I couldn't say it. In the end, I just blurted out that I was sorry. Sorry for everything from the very first insult right up to now.” 

 

“Merlin, Draco,” Blaise exclaimed letting out a loud breath, “how did she react to that?” 

 

“Well, she was  _ unsurprisingly _ shocked and, after a while of her thinking about it, she actually accepted my apology — if you can believe that?” He told his boyfriend incredulously, still a little bewildered himself at the witch’s unrelenting and forgiving nature. 

 

“Wow!” Blaise exclaimed. “She’s extraordinary, isn't she?” 

 

“She is something else, that's for sure. But—“ he sighed “—she said she couldn't forgive me for what happened at the Manor.”

 

Draco stood from the bed and began pacing as Blaise watched him. 

 

“She wanted to know why I didn't help her. I couldn't tell her, not right then. She's not ready to hear it yet and I didn’t want to upset her anymore; she's pretty fragile right now. And, oh, I forgot about this part… she knows about us—”

 

“WHAT?” Blaise bellowed, bringing himself to a sitting position in the middle of his bed. 

 

Draco stopped and faced him. 

 

“I told you I might end up telling her about us. She's got to get used to the idea of the both of us at some point,” he stated, rolling his eyes at his man, before continuing his pacing backwards and forwards across the room. “Turns out I didn't need to, she already knew. Little swot figured it out in fifth year and hadn't told a soul.” 

 

Blaise raised his eyebrows in wonder at this news. He might have guessed actually that she really wasn't one to spread gossip, having been subjected to enough of it herself over the years. 

 

“Anyway,” Draco continued, “she said she needed time to think and that she'd be in the library tonight so I could be here without any uncomfortableness.”

 

He slunk back towards the bed and flopped down face first. Voice muffled by the pillows, he wailed, “What if she can't forgive me?”

Blaise stroked his fingers across Draco's back and sighed. “I'm sure she will. You'll just have to do as she asks and give her some space and time to think. Meanwhile, I'll be the confidant she listens and talks to and I’ll gush about how great you are.”

 

Draco smirked and moved his head so he was looking at Blaise who had also laid back down. “And so it begins. Day one of the  _ ‘Make Hermione Granger Ours’ _ plan,” he laughed. Blaise rolled his eyes and slapped Draco’s arm. 

 

“That sounds so childish, Draco. We're not fifteen anymore.”

 

Draco pouted and stuck his tongue out like a petulant child. 

 

As Blaise turned on his side, Draco cuddled into him from behind, his arm lying loosely across Blaise’s waist as he sighed. 

 

“What is it, Blaise?” Draco asked quietly.

 

“I hope this plan works, Draco,” he sighed again, feeling quite melancholy, “I mean, I love you, and I never want to be without you but, by Circe, we need that witch with us. She's the third part of us, Draco. She's going to complete us.”

 

“You're telling me something I've known for years, love,” Draco replied, wrapping his arm tighter around Blaise’s middle. “We’ll just do what we said. With our looks and charm, she won't be able to resist our company.” He was trying to make light of it when really, he was scared. He had a massive amount of hurdles to jump to just get her on friendly terms with him, let alone anything else. He was going to try though. He'd do anything to have her in the middle of them right now, warm in bed and safe in their arms. They were going to fix her and make her better — between the two of them, they were going to right the wrongs of the past. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco couldn't sleep. After his talk with Blaise earlier on they’d both tried to get some rest, but Draco had just tossed and turned. He couldn't get Hermione out of his head. Their talk had rattled him more than ever. He sighed, habitually running his hands his messy hair before getting up and sitting on the soft rug by the dying embers of the fire. 

 

“What's wrong?” Blaise mumbled a few minutes later. He hadn't slept too well either as Draco's constant fidgeting had kept waking him up. 

 

“Nothing. Go back to sleep. It's barely morning yet,” Draco whispered without looking away from the fire. 

 

Blaise knew what was playing on his lover’s mind. Time to make him think about something else for a little while. Lowering his voice a couple of octaves to that husky tone he knew Draco loved, he commanded him back to bed. 

 

Draco got up from the floor and slid back under the duvet. Blaise turned on his side to face him, propping his head up on his hand, the other running up and down Draco's chest under his t-shirt. 

 

“Let me help you take your mind off things.” He winked. 

 

A small smirk crossed Draco's face as he sat up to remove his shirt, flinging it across the room. Blaise moved to straddle his boyfriend's body, his lips moving towards the blond's which he captured with his own. Blaise loved kissing Draco — he had the softest lips. His greedy mouth took possession of his lover’s with brutal force, but this was for Draco — to take his mind off their witch — so Blaise kissed across Draco's jaw, peppering kisses down the column of his throat, nipping across his collarbone and licking a path down the middle of his chest. He could feel Draco's heart race under his touch as the blond fisted the bed sheets either side of him. 

 

Sliding his tongue down to the edge of Draco's boxers, Blaise licked across the top of the waistband before sliding a finger in either side, peeling the underwear down his legs and away from his feet, where he let them drop to the floor. Looking over the wizard's toned physique, noticing his already hard cock laying against the bottom of his stomach, Blaise licked his lips and winked. Running both hands along the inside of Draco's thighs, parting them slightly until he had settled himself between them, his left hand cupped his boyfriend’s balls. Draco let out a soft moan, followed by, “Stop teasing and suck me.”

 

Grinning wickedly, Blaise held Draco's cock in his right hand before licking across the slit at the precum that had formed there, running his tongue down one side and up the other before encasing Draco’s hard length in his mouth, moving his lips all the way down Draco's shaft to the bottom, the blond’s hips jerking as he let out a hiss. 

 

“Fuck, Blaise, your mouth feels fantastic. Now stop playing and suck — HARD,” Malfoy demanded, overcome with the need to fuck his boyfriend's mouth. 

 

Blaise didn't need any more encouragement and began moving his lips up and down around Draco’s cock. The blond grabbed the back of Blaise's head and plunged himself into his mouth, feeling his orgasm building as he ploughed in and out between the Italian’s sinful lips. 

 

Blaise circled the bottom of Draco's length with his fingers, applying pressure before moving his mouth and hand together up and down the delicious erection. 

 

“Yes, Blaise, harder, more, more, fuck… I'm going to come,” Draco shouted, just as he shot his creamy liquid down the back of Blaise's throat, his body shuddering with pleasure.  

 

“That was amazing,” Draco breathed raggedly, flopping back against the pillows as Blaise moved to lie beside him.   

 

“Your turn?” Draco asked a few minutes later, not giving Blaise a chance to respond before pouncing, covering his lover’s body with his own. 

 

“Definitely,” Blaise answered, feeling his own cock twitching, wanting to be released from the confines of his underwear. Just as Draco pressed his lips against the Italian’s, a knock on the door made them both freeze. Turning their heads towards the intrusive sound, they heard Hermione speak. 

 

“Blaise, I've made you a cup of tea. If Malfoy is in there, there's also one for him out here. I'd like to speak to you both,” she offered. 

 

Staring at each other in shock, they sat up, facing each other. 

 

“Well, what now?” Draco whispered. 

 

“Now, we go out there, have a cup of tea with her and talk, right?” Blaise asked, curious to find out what it was Hermione wished to say. 

 

“Right, right. Okay. Let's get dressed then,” Draco said, jumping from the bed, flapping about looking for his boxers. 

 

Blaise laughed at him. “Calm down, Draco. Let's just stay calm,” he warned before replying to the witch outside. 

 

“Coming, Hermione.” 

 

He heard her scatter away from his door before he also rose and got himself dressed. When they were both ready, Blaise grabbed the doorknob and looked over at Draco.

 

“Okay?” 

 

Draco took a breath and nodded before Blaise opened the door to face their witch. 


	7. Chapter Seven

This Life

Chapter Seven

~•~•~

 

Hermione’s nerves were on edge as she watched Draco and Blaise walk towards the table she was sitting at, noticing their apprehensiveness as they sat down. As she was already positioned at the head of the table, they each took a seat on either side of her. Taking a deep breath, she was about to speak when Blaise beat her to it.

“What’s this all about, Hermione?” He asked gently, looking at her while stirring a teaspoon of sugar into his tea.

“Well,” she began, nervously fidgeting her hands in her lap and smiling at him. “I wanted to tell you both that I’ve thought about what Malfoy and I spoke about yesterday morning. So much so in fact that I was actually quite distracted through classes and pretty much the whole day.” She noticed Malfoy raise an eyebrow, obviously unbelieving that anything could distract her from classes and learning. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Malfoy. Even Harry and Ron asked what planet I was on yesterday.”

Draco grimaced at the mention of her two best friends. If it came down to it, he could quite possibly stand to be around Potter for short periods of time but he despised Weasley, and he knew Blaise felt the same way.

“Anyway, I’m deviating from the point I’m trying to make,” Hermione continued, blind to the looks the boys were giving each other across the table — looks that said they were possibly not going to like whatever it was. “I’ve thought about nothing else for the last twenty-four hours, and I’ve decided that you may be right, Malfoy.”

Draco dropped the cup he was holding in shock. “Shit!” He cursed, moving out of the way of the tea dripping over the edge of the table towards his lap. He righted the cup and quickly used a _Scourgify_ to clean the mess away and sat back down. “Sorry about that,” he gestured, “It was just a surprise to hear you say I was right about something, Granger.”

She gave him a small smile before reaching for the teapot and began refilling his cup.

“As I was saying, I think you’re right, Malfoy. The war is over, and it’s time to move forward. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, in fact, it’ll probably be downright difficult for us to be nice to each other, but—“

“Oh, I don’t know about that—“ he interrupted smugly, a sly grin turning up one corner of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. “ _As_ I was saying… I think I’d like to try moving forward by calling a truce with you.”

He held onto the cup this time, even though his hand started to shake a little. Looking over at Blaise, and seeing the shocked look on _his_ face, Draco didn’t know how to answer. Blaise gave him a small nod of his head as if to say, ‘It’s ok, Draco. Answer the woman’ _._ They hadn’t been expecting this.

“I don’t know what to say, Granger. To be honest I was kind of expecting you to tell me to go fuck myself.” The surprised blond laughed, running his hand through his hair.

Hermione giggled at this. “I’m sure you were. You should have realised by now that I like doing what people least expect of me.”

“True, and I obviously agree with you. We do need to move on. So what do you suggest? Where do we start?” He asked nervously.

“Well, how about tonight after the Prefects’ meeting, the three of us spend some time here in the common room and get to know each other a little better? I mean, I know you and Blaise know each other but… well… you know what I mean.” She looked down at her feet, slightly embarrassed at her floundering.

Hermione had lost all sense of reality yesterday, her mind stuck on the conversation between herself and Draco. She was still a little astounded at his apology and his admission that he trusted her, telling her they needed to reconcile their differences. He had done nothing to help during her torture at the hands of Bellatrix, but yesterday he'd been so sincere — she could see it in his eyes. Thinking only about what had happened to her during the war, she’d never stopped to think about what Draco had been through — _why would she?_ Yes, he'd let the Death Eaters into her beloved school and had tried to kill their headmaster, but the fact that he hadn't been able to go through with it should've made her stop and think at the time.

Hermione had realised how horrible it must have been for Draco to be living with that vile monster in his house. Anything could have happened to him during that time that she had no clue about; he was probably suffering flashbacks and nightmares like she was.

Having not seen him since the night of the final battle, it seemed like he was a different person now, but she still didn't know if she could _properly_ forgive him for all that had happened, and that thought wasn’t sitting well with her. Hermione had always had a forgiving nature but some things took time.

She was, however, willing to call a truce so Blaise could enjoy having his boyfriend around. The minute he said or did anything untoward to her, she would just have to hex his balls off.

Blaise brought her away from her thoughts and back to the present. He reached across the table and took her hand gently, stroking the back of it.

“Are you sure, _Cara_?” He asked quietly. All he could see in those beautiful amber eyes was a steely determination.

Moving her hand out from under his, and placing it in her lap, she responded with a sigh, “Yes, I'm quite sure, Blaise. Anyway, if the other students can see us getting along it will do wonders for house unity. I believe Professor McGonagall is going to be making an announcement at dinner on Sunday about some changes she’ll be implementing this year, and guess what?” She asked, looking from one to the other. They both gave her bemused looks. “House unity is at the top of her agenda.”

Hermione stood from the table and went to collect her school bag from the sofa, leaving both boys open-mouthed before they seemed to rally.

“If that's true, Granger, let us walk with you to breakfast. Better start this house unity thing off right,” Draco declared. “Plus, I want to see everyone's faces.” He laughed.

 _Ever the show-off,_ she thought rolling her eyes.

“Erm… yes, okay, then,” she answered, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

Both wizards were out of their seats, grabbing their own bags and escorting her out the door, the three walking quickly down the hall before Snape said anything. It was unnerving having him in that portrait.

Blaise took one side and Draco the other so Hermione was walking between them, falling into easy conversation about classes and what other ideas McGonagall might be coming up with, when they reached the door to the Great Hall. Silence descended in the cavernous room as they entered.

“Well, that's caused quite the scene,” Draco whispered leaning down to Hermione’s ear. She stilled at his close proximity but kept a straight face in front of everyone; she wasn't comfortable having him so near to her.

Blaise, realising her sudden distress, also leant down and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

“See you tonight, _Cara,_ ” he smiled, pulling his soft lips away.

Hermione felt heat bloom across her face as the dark Italian winked at her before walking off to the Slytherin table with Draco. That was the second time he'd called her _Cara_ , she'd have to look up the meaning in the library. She knew it was Italian but, unfortunately, she didn't understand a word of that language. Making her way over to the Gryffindor table she noticed Harry watching her, looking deep in thought, his eyebrows drawn together. Ron, who had a fork halfway to his mouth but had stopped its movements to watch her with Draco and Blaise, had a scowl across his face. Then she noticed Ginny’s face, glowering at her.

Hermione pasted on a smile and took her place in between Harry and Ron.  

“Good morning, everyone,” she greeted them all brightly, reaching for the pumpkin juice and some toast.

“Err, Mione?” Ron started, placing his fork back down on his plate and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yes, Ronald?” She answered her friend.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That, with those two pillocks. Why was Malfoy whispering in your ear? And why did Zabini kiss you?” He asked incredulously.

“I was merely walking to breakfast with my roommate and his friend, and they were saying goodbye.” She didn't look up from buttering her toast as she wondered herself why Draco had leant down to her, nevermind why Blaise had felt the need to drop a peck on her cheek. She noticed Harry listening closely.

“But why?” Ron pestered.

“Because the Gryffinwhore is obviously sleeping with one or both of them.” Hermione heard Ginny mutter under her breath, earning a giggle from Lavender.

Turning to face the redhead, Hermione asked, “What was that, Ginevra?”

Ginny’s face turned scarlet as she realised Hermione had heard her. A bit more loudly, she repeated herself, “I _said_ , you're probably sleeping with one or both of them.”

“GINNY!” Ron and Harry shouted at the same time, making some of the other students turn to see what the commotion was.

Ginny flinched slightly at the angry way her boyfriend and brother reacted.

“What? It's probably true. You know what a slut she is. First my brother and then you, Harry. Now she's moved onto the Slytherins.”

“Merlin, Ginny, how many _more_ times do we have to go over this? Nothing happened between Hermione and Ron _or_ Hermione and me. When are you going to learn to accept the truth?” Harry angrily whispered, standing up and grabbing Ginny's arm to escort her out of the Great Hall.

Hermione turned to Ron with tears in her eyes, embarrassed that other people had heard. “Ron, why is she always like that with me? I... I don't understand. I've never done anything to her.”

“I don't know, Mione,” he answered, putting his arm around her shoulders so she could huddle against his broad, familiar chest. Normally she would brush off Ginny's constant insults or scathing looks with a quick retort, but she just couldn’t be bothered anymore. She could see Lavender and Parvati giggling together further down the table, sending her mean looks.

~•~•~

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco and Blaise were quietly seething after watching that little display.

“I'm telling you now, Blaise, that's the last time that fucking weasel bitch is going to treat our girl like that,” Draco whispered so no one else would hear.

“I wholeheartedly agree, Draco, and I think I've come up with the perfect solution.” Blaise winked at him and Draco smirked back. No one was more cunning or devious than Blaise when he was upset about something.

They watched as Ron released Hermione so she could stand and make her way out of the Great Hall. She looked over at them and they both smiled, Draco throwing in a sly wink for good measure. Her sad eyes seemed to light up as she smiled shyly back before departing.

~•~•~

After lessons were finished for the day, Hermione walked up to Professors McGonagall's office for their weekly tea and chat. She was sure that the new headmistress would be too busy for this now she had the school to run but, after Transfiguration this morning, McGonagall had informed the Head Girl that she'd still like to see her.

She knocked, hearing a quiet ‘enter’ from the other side a second later. Hermione opened the door and immediately relaxed at seeing her professor and mentor.

“Good afternoon, Headmistress,” she said brightly, making her way over to one of the chairs in front of the desk.

McGonagall looked up from her paperwork to smile warmly at the girl she'd come to care so much about.

“Hermione,” she greeted her. “Take a seat. I'll be right with you.”

Once McGonagall had finished her paperwork, she peered over at her student. She looked happier and more herself than the older woman had seen her in months. Pouring tea for both of them and passing one over she asked, “How have you been, Hermione? Are you settling back in okay?”

Taking a sip from her cup before answering, Hermione replied, “I'm fine, thank you, Headmistress. Classes have been going well, and we have our first Prefect meeting tonight to arrange a patrol schedule and get started on the arrangements for whichever ball we decide to have.”

“That's fabulous, Hermione, but I want to know how _you_ are? How have things been living with Mr Zabini?” She asked.

Hermione gave it some thought before replying. “Well, I must say I've been quite impressed with Blaise. He seems like a caring person and has been nothing but nice to me. He's looking forward to properly starting his Head Boy tasks and, of course, Quidditch.” She rolled her eyes.

McGonagall laughed at this. Of course, her favourite student didn't like Quidditch; she had an irrational fear of flying.

“So you're both settling in well then? That's good to hear. And how about Mr Malfoy? Have you had any interaction with him yet apart from classes?”

“Well, yes, I've seen him and spoken to him actually. He… he apologised to me.” Hermione cleared her throat and avoided McGonagall's eyes as she sipped her tea.

“I beg your pardon?” The surprised Headmistress answered back.

Hermione looked up and caught McGonagall's incredulous stare.

Placing her teacup on the desk, and folding her hands in her lap, she continued.

“He sought me out at the lake yesterday morning and apologised to me. He said he was sorry for everything that had happened from the moment he met me, how he'd like to leave it all behind, and for us to move forward... maybe become friends... but I'm… well, I'm not so sure I can do that.”

“I understand completely, Hermione, but—”

“It's okay, Headmistress. I told him this morning that I was willing to call a truce.” She declared, reaching for her tea again. “It seems he and Blaise are quite close and only seem to have each other, so I know Malfoy will want to spend time in our common room. I wouldn't want to be the one to tell Blaise no, so I called a truce with Malfoy. We can be amicable, I'm sure of it. The war has changed him just as much as anyone else, and I don't think I really understood what he’s been through. In fact, I still don't know what happened to him in the last year, but it can't have been anything good. So I'm willing to give him one last chance to prove to me that he isn't the prejudiced bully I've come to know and loathe.”

This cheered her mentor up, and she smiled brightly at Hermione.

“There's the girl I know,” she declared proudly. “I wouldn't blame you if you never gave Mr Malfoy another chance, but the fact that you _are_ willing to try amazes me, Hermione. Truly, you are the Brightest Witch of Your Age; you can see logic and understanding where most others can't.”

“Well, we shall see what happens over the next few weeks, Headmistress. I’m certainly not making any promises though.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, my dear.”

They both talked for a little while longer before the dinner bell could be heard and Hermione stood to leave.

“You know where I am if you need anything, Hermione,” McGonagall reminded her. Lifting her heavy school bag onto her shoulder, she smiled at her favourite professor, “Of course, Headmistress. Thank you,” she added as she left the office and made her way to the Great Hall.

~•~•~

After grabbing a quick bite to eat, Hermione made it back to her quarters in record time, having not been stopped by anyone, for once. She still had forty-five minutes to shower, change and set up the meeting. She didn’t notice Blaise around so figured he must have been off somewhere with Malfoy. As long as he made it back in time, it would be fine.

She walked into her room and dumped her bag on the floor by her desk, reaching to undo the bun that held her mane of curls back all day as she grabbed a towel and made her way over to the bathroom. Opening the door she was shocked by the scene that greeted her and froze — realising the boys must've cast a _Silencio_ on the room as she hadn’t heard the water running, but they'd failed miserably with a locking charm.

Blaise was standing against the back wall of the glass shower, water running in rivulets down his toned chest. His head was thrown back, eyes shut tight as whimpers and moans were falling from his lips. Hermione’s eyes travelled down to see Draco kneeling between Blaise’s spread legs. He had his hands on his boyfriend’s hips and his head bobbed up and down, giving Hermione the perfect view of Blaise’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth as his lover’s hands guided his head up and down.

Hermione just stood there, utterly frozen, but couldn’t seem to tear her wide eyes away from the scene in front. She carried on watching as Draco moved his right hand around Blaise’s hip and grabbed the base of his shaft. He started moving his hand in time with his mouth, up and down. She looked at Blaise’s long dark cock sliding in and out of Draco’s mouth, it was glistening with what she thought would be Draco’s saliva and Blaise’s precum. She gasped suddenly and Blaise’s eyes shot open. He smiled and pulled Draco’s head up.

“We have company, lover,” he said without breaking eye contact with Hermione.

She was breathing hard, her hands were clutching the towel to her chest, and it felt like her heart was going to explode through her ribcage. Without rising, Draco turned his head to Hermione, his grey eyes were blazing and dark with lust. Looking away from Blaise and facing Draco, she felt trapped by his stare.

“Like what you see, Granger? Why don’t you join us?” He smirked, before turning his head back and resuming what he was doing.

Without saying a word, Hermione turned and fled from the bathroom. Just as she stepped away, she heard Blaise say, “Too bad. Maybe next time.”

 _FUCK!_ Hermione slammed the bathroom door closed and cast a Locking Charm. She threw herself down on her bed and tried to get her breathing under control.

 _What the actual fuck did I just see?_ _How am I ever going to look them in the face again?_

She spun her head when she heard the doorknob rattle on her side.

“Granger? Open up.” Malfoy shouted from the other side.

“Go away,” she called back.

“Come on, Granger. Prefects will be here in twenty minutes, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don't. And I didn't see anything anyway, so go away and leave me be, Malfoy.”

“Fine! Be a stubborn wench, but we _will_ be talking about this after.”

“After? After what?” She shouted back again. There was nothing to discuss as far as she was concerned. She could picture him rolling his eyes from the other side of the door before he answered her again, sounding exasperated.

“After our Prefects’ meeting, oh Brightest Witch of Our Age. We’ll be discussing our “getting to know each other” time, remember?”

 _Oh, that_. Damn, she was still going to have to go through with that. She'd suggested it, and she'd look an idiot if she backed out now. Screaming internally at herself, Hermione moved from the bed to the bathroom door, unlocked it and threw it wide open.

Draco stood against the doorframe with nothing but a white towel around his waist. She didn't mean to — she really didn't — but she couldn't help _not_ stare at the Malfoy heir. He had a very fine body — pale skin and toned muscle. All that Quidditch, she thought. The noise of him clearing his throat made her blush as Hermione realised she’d been caught looking at him. Feeling her cheeks heat, she looked up into his playful grey gaze.

“Well?” He asked, smirking at her embarrassment.

“Yes, Malfoy, Okay. I hadn't forgotten. Now can you please sod off and put some clothes on?” She asked, averting her eyes from that hypnotic stare. What the hell was happening to her? She'd never thought about Malfoy in this way before — or ever, for that matter. She'd been thinking about him too much since that damn apology yesterday morning. It was like the man had had a personality transplant; he was so different from the spoilt, arrogant bully she’d known for seven years. She was intrigued to find out more about him.

“Your request is my demand, princess,” he grinned before sauntering back towards Blaise’s room.

Merlin be damned, he had a fine arse. Shaking her head to clear the images of a half-naked Malfoy in her bathroom, Hermione was feeling quite flustered as she grabbed the quickest shower of her life — trying _not_ to think about what had been going on in the bathroom only minutes before — and got dressed in jeans and a soft green jumper, deciding to leave her long curly hair down before taking a deep breath and entering the common room.

She blushed when Draco looked at her over the back of the couch and winked. _Bastard!_ She screamed in her head before averting her eyes and walking directly towards the armchair.

Some of the eighth year Prefects had already arrived and were sitting themselves down at the study table — Harry sitting next to Lavender of all people. Hermione was not happy about one of Ginny’s cohorts being made a Prefect but that decision was out of her hands.

Sitting the other side of Harry was Pansy Parkinson — _Can my life get any worse? —_ then Blaise came out from his bedroom also smirking at her. _Yes, yes, my life can get worse!_ She grabbed her bag from the side of the armchair and made her way over to the others, Draco following behind, taking a seat next to Pansy.

Hermione sat next to Blaise and was just sorting through her notes when the others arrived. Padma Patil and Michael Corner from Ravenclaw along with Susan Bones and Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff. She looked at Blaise, and he nodded his head for her to start; they had already discussed what needed going over yesterday.

“Hello everyone,” Hermione started. They all turned to look at her. “So, the first order of business is getting the rotas out to you all for patrols, which will be starting on Monday. Headmistress McGonagall has given us this first week to settle back in before normal duties start again.” There were a few groans and sighs at this before she continued. “You will all be expected to sort out the sixth and fifth year Prefects from your own houses this year as well. McGonagall wants you all to have a little more responsibility and not leave Blaise and I with a massive amount of work to do. Also, we’ve been given permission to hold a ball and we must all agree on what we’d like to do — Halloween or Christmas. As it’s an extra year for us, and there's so much studying, she told us we were only allowed to host _one_ ball and an end of year party on the last Saturday of school.”

They all seemed to cheer up at this piece of news before the arguing began over which ball to host. Lavender and Susan wanted Halloween while Pansy wanted Christmas. The boys were sitting there looking bored and uninterested.

“Okay, okay, enough,” Blaise shouted to restore order. They all looked at him, instantly halting their arguments. “We’ll hold a vote if we can't agree. Hands up for Halloween.”

Lavender, Susan, Michael and Zacharias raised their hands.

“Christmas it is then, six to four outnumbered. Sorry, ladies,” he grinned wickedly over at Lavender. He knew Hermione wanted to host the Christmas Ball and, even though he and Draco would have preferred Halloween, they planned to make their Christmas-loving witch happy and give her what she wanted.

Lavender and Susan both huffed, while the boys still looked bored.

Hermione and Blaise handled the rest of the meeting, explaining that a small common room next to the library would be used as the eighth year Prefects’ office and they would find their pigeon holes inside, along with Hermione’s and Blaise’s, and that all further meetings would be held there. Patrol schedules were handed out and a date put forward for the next Prefects’ meeting in two weeks time. As they all stood to leave, Hermione remembered one thing.

“Before you all go, I should warn you that the Headmistress is going to be making some changes and will be addressing the school about these on Sunday at dinnertime. She expects us all to co-operate with her and set a good example.”

“What kind of changes?” Susan shyly asked.

“It’s not for me to say. She’ll make the announcement on Sunday.”

Susan nodded at Hermione on her way out of the door while Harry made his way over to where she was still sitting.

“Good meeting, Hermione. How are you feeling?” He asked, concerned for her well-being. She’d looked a little nervous having to address everyone, Harry not knowing what she’d stumbled upon beforehand.

“Fine, Harry. I’m fine.”

Harry picked up her tone of voice and changed the subject. “What's with the portrait? You never told me Snape was your portrait.”

“Didn’t I? Sorry, I’ve had a lot going on since we came back.”

“Like what?” He asked, frowning slightly. He wanted to make sure she was okay, and that the snakes weren't giving her any trouble.

“Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Can we speak about this another time? I’ve got notes to write up from the meeting to hand into McGonagall, and homework to do. Then I’ve got to start making plans for the Christmas Ball, and I’ve got to go to the library as well.”

“I know when you're giving me the brush off, Hermione, but we _will_ be talking about it. And soon,” he tacked onto the end. If someone, or something, was bothering her, he’d find out.

“Sure, sure,” she answered, and he knew he wouldn’t get anything else from her and was, essentially, being dismissed. She stood up and hugged her best friend briefly before he left the common room as well.

Sighing, Hermione turned to face the two Slytherins still sitting at the table.

“We can work on the notes for McGonagall in the morning, Hermione. No more work tonight, alright?” Blaise asked.

“Blaise, surely—”

“No, Granger,” Draco interrupted her, “Blaise is right. No more work tonight. Now, we are going to move over to the sofa, have a drink, relax, and get to know each other as you suggested.”

She frowned at his forceful tone but didn't argue back.

“Well, then,” she said, packing her notes away and moving over to the seating area, “you’d better get the Firewhisky out. This evening is definitely going to need alcohol.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a small part near the end of this chapter that may be deemed dub-con. It’s nothing major but thought I’d let you know just in case x

THIS LIFE

Chapter Eight

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione sat back against the sofa with her head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling. Draco had gone to retrieve his secret stash of Firewhisky, while Blaise cleaned up the table of their notes and empty glasses after the Prefects’ meeting.

 

“Everything alright over there, Hermione?” He asked, looking over to her. She seemed to be in a reflective mood — sitting quietly with her thoughts. 

 

“Hmm? Oh… yeah, everything’s fine. Just unwinding, you know? It’s felt like a long week so far.”

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Blaise agreed, making his way over and sitting down next to her. 

 

She turned her head to find him staring. 

 

“What?” She asked inquisitively, pulling her eyebrows together.

 

“Nothing. I was just thinking how pretty you are,” Blaise answered her honestly.

 

She baulked at this and snorted. “Erm… okay… thanks, I guess.” 

 

Hermione wasn’t used to people calling her pretty. The last time anyone had called her that was at the Slug Club Christmas party back in sixth year, and it was only Harry so it really didn’t count. She wanted to change the subject.

 

“So how come Pansy’s been made a Prefect?”

 

I could ask the same about Potter,” he replied sharply.

 

She sank back into the chair and whispered, “Sorry, Blaise, I was just wondering that’s all. I didn’t even know she was coming back this year. I heard what happened to her parents.”

 

Blaise watched her shrink into herself after he’d answered her abruptly.

 

“Shit, Hermione, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to answer like that,” he replied guiltily, moving closer to her so he could wrap an arm around her shoulders to hug her. She flinched as she felt his arm snake around her back, but Hermione didn’t move away as Blaise pulled her closer until her head was resting on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. It's just, Draco and I are close to Pansy, and she's really not the bitch she comes across as. We can get a little defensive over her, to be honest.” He answered truthfully. 

 

“I really didn't mean anything by it, Blaise, and you're right. There's only one reason Harry was made Prefect, and it has nothing to do with his academic brilliance — or lack of. It was so he could keep an eye on me.”

 

“What do you mean, keep an eye on you?”

 

“McGonagall and I are quite close, and she thinks I can't cope at the minute.”

 

“Can't cope?” He repeated.

 

“Yeah. I don't want to get into it. This is supposed to be a fun night, I don't want to get into a heavy discussion.”

 

“Then we won’t,” he responded, keeping what she’d said in the back of his mind to come back to later. What did McGonagall mean Hermione couldn’t cope? She was the most accomplished witch he knew. Even though she had some serious emotional issues to deal with in the aftermath of the war, he’d never seen her anything less than put together — the other night being an exception. 

 

“To be honest, I was more shocked at Lavender being made Prefect. Don't know what McGonagall was thinking there.” She laughed and heard him laugh at the same time. 

 

“That was a strange decision,” Blaise confirmed. 

 

They heard the portrait door open, and Draco walked in muttering under his breath about Snape before spotting Blaise sitting with Hermione's head on his shoulder. 

 

“What's going on here then?” He asked nonchalantly but frowning at their closeness. 

 

“Nothing's going on, Draco. We were just waiting for you to come back. Thought we were going to die of thirst, to be honest, since you were gone a while,” Blaise responded. 

 

Draco hmm’d at them both before moving into the kitchen to fetch glasses for their drinks. Hermione lifted herself out of Blaise’s embrace and leant back against the sofa so he got up and walked into the kitchenette to speak to Draco. As he entered his boyfriend observed him with an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

 

“What was that all about?” Draco whispered so Hermione wouldn’t hear them.

 

“Something and nothing. I was a little harsh in response to a question about Pans actually,” Blaise answered.

 

“Ah,” Draco responded, grabbing glasses out of the cupboard and pouring three shots of Firewhiskey.

 

“Just,  _ ah _ ? Should we tell her we’re close to Pans or what?” Blaise asked frustrated. He didn’t want to upset Hermione, but he didn’t want her thinking that Pansy was a bitch either. Draco and Blaise treated Pansy like a sister — they always had. And after what had happened to her parents during the war, they were both more protective than ever.

 

Draco grabbed the glasses up and moved back towards the sofa where Hermione was still sitting, looking deep in thought. Turning back to Blaise he whispered, “Just leave it for now, love.”

 

Blaise shrugged his shoulders and followed behind. 

 

“Here you go, Granger,” Draco said, handing her a glass across the back of the sofa. She turned to take it and caught his eyes. He was smiling at her. 

 

_ A genuine smile, _ she thought. He looked good with a natural smile on his face. She took the glass and muttered her thanks before taking a small sip. Firewhisky wasn’t her thing, but she was surprised that it tasted good. This wasn’t the Firewhisky she was used to drinking with Harry and Ron.

 

Draco and Blaise moved around the couch to sit down. Draco took one of the armchairs and Blaise sat on the floor by his feet. They both looked over at Hermione who was quietly sipping her drink.

 

“You like it, Granger?” Draco asked, sipping his own drink.

 

“I do, actually,” she replied, “It’s different from what I normally drink.”

 

“Well, of course,” he replied in that arrogant, snobby way of his. “It’s one-hundred-year-old whisky.”

 

She rolled her eyes at his bragging.  _ Only the best for Malfoy,  _ she thought snidely.

 

“Of course it is, Malfoy,” she smiled from behind her glass. She was enjoying the taste even though she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol so she knew to be cautious. Hermione  _ definitely _ didn’t want to get drunk in the company of those two particular Slytherins.

 

“So what shall we talk about?” Blaise asked, watching her enjoy her drink. 

 

“Let's start with where Malfoy got a bottle of hundred-year-old whisky from.” She grinned over the rim of her glass at Blaise who winked back, pleased that her mood had lightened. She blushed and looked from him to Draco. He was staring at her. Probably wanted her undivided attention before answering —  _ smug git! _

 

“Did you forget I live in a huge Manor and have endless Galleons, Granger? Only the best for me.” He laughed, while she sighed at his arrogance.

 

“Don't gloat, Draco,” Blaise admonished him. 

 

“How could I ever forget that?” She asked. “We had to listen to you for six years while you told us all how rich and better than us you were.”

 

“Well, there you go, then,” he replied raising his glass in salute.

 

“You’re an idiot, Malfoy,” she concluded. She knew he was teasing her — or trying to. It all felt a little strange being here with him and Blaise and no Harry or Ron to protect against the Slytherins. Still, as much as she felt a little nervous, she could feel the whisky warming through her and helping her relax a little.

 

“How about,” Blaise said, “we start this evening by using each other's given names?”

 

“What?” Hermione was completely taken aback. That was something she couldn’t ever imagine — Malfoy calling her by her given name.

 

“What’s the problem with that,  _ Hermione _ ?” Draco drawled her name, waiting for a reaction.

 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised in shock, looking incredulously over at Malfoy. Had she just heard that? He’d actually called her  _ Hermione _ . It sounded so weird coming from him — especially when he winked after. She felt her cheeks flame and looked away from that intense silver stare of his.

 

If he wanted to play this game with her, then bring it on. Turning back to face him, she squared her shoulders, took a sip of the whisky and replied, “I don’t have a problem with that,  _ Draco _ .”

 

“Touché, Granger,” he laughed, raising his glass to her in another mock salute, and thinking how good his name sounded coming from that lovely mouth of hers. 

 

She rolled her eyes at him.

 

“Well, that was easier than I thought,” Blaise admitted. “I thought I’d have to work a lot harder than that to get you two speaking each other's first names.”

 

They both grinned at Blaise, and he gave a small laugh. 

 

“Right. Yeah. I forgot who I was dealing with. Two pig-headed, stubborn dolts.”

 

“Hey!” Hermione spluttered in mock outrage, picking up the cushion from the couch and throwing it in Blaise’s direction. He caught it just before it hit him in the face.

 

“Violent much?” Draco asked, moving his glass from his lap as Blaise jostled his legs while catching the cushion.

 

“You should know, Malfoy. It was  _ you _ I punched back in third year,” she smiled wickedly at him.

 

“Again Granger, Touché! Aren’t you the queen of comebacks?” He mocked playfully. 

 

While they bantered back and forth, Blaise stood to fetch the bottle of Firewhisky from the kitchen. He liked hearing them playfully argue with each other over the stupid shit they’d done to one another over the years. He leant against the worktop, bottle in hand, and just listened to them for a few minutes.

 

“Hey, that’s not fair. I wasn’t expecting a girl to throw a punch at me, so I wasn’t prepared.” Blaise heard Draco whine. He smiled, picturing Malfoy's face. He’d probably stuck his bottom lip out and pouted like a child who was being told off. Grangers accompanying laugh told him that’s exactly what Draco had done. 

 

“Oh, Malfoy. You look like a scolded toddler. Just admit you were wrong over Buckbeak and we’ll call it quits,” she said between fits of giggles.

 

“Never, Granger. That chicken tried to kill me.”

 

“Did not.”

 

“Did too.”

 

“It was a scratch Malfoy, and you played on it for weeks.”

 

“It hurt.”

 

“You’re a wimp.”

 

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “At least I didn't curse a girl’s face, or keep a reporter in a jar for the better part of a year.” 

 

“WHAT?” 

 

_ Oh shit! _ Blaise thought. He’s gone and done it now. 

 

“How the hell do you know about that, Malfoy?” Blaise heard her cry indignantly.

 

“I have my ways of knowing and finding things out. And Skeeter?  _ That _ was kind of brilliant — kudos for the idea. I wondered at the time where that batty old bint had disappeared to.”

 

“Again, Malfoy, your fault. If you—”

 

“Hey now, hold on a min—”

 

“Oh no, you don’t, Malfoy. There will be no excuses this time. You were feeding that awful woman complete lies about my friends and me all year. I wouldn't have had to put her in a jar if she hadn’t been hounding us… because of YOU,” she shouted at him. 

 

Blaise walked back in before things got out of hand. These two were so fiery with each other, although he liked to call it passionate — Hermione just couldn’t see it yet. He walked over to stand in front of her, unscrewed the bottle and poured some of the dark amber liquid into her glass. His eyes didn’t leave hers the whole time as she stared up at him. He heard Draco harrumph and flop back against the seat.

 

Hermione knew she shouldn’t be accepting another glass of whisky, the first one was already having an effect on her and she wanted to be on her guard, but her resolve was slipping as she sipped the fabulous drink. 

 

Blaise smirked, knowing full well the way to get her to relax around them was to loosen her up with alcohol. He also knew she couldn't handle her intake when it came to drinking, not that he or Draco would ever take advantage. He turned to refill Draco’s glass to see his blond-haired lover sulking. 

 

“Stop acting like a petulant child, Draco, and pass your glass,” Blaise demanded, rolling his eyes at his prat of a boyfriend. He'd better get used to not always being right if they wanted to bring Hermione into their lives, he thought. She wouldn't let Draco get away with the stuff that he did. 

 

Draco raised his glass without answering and Blaise sighed, filling it three fingers full with whisky for him. This time, instead of sitting on the floor, he sat down on the sofa beside Hermione. 

 

“To fresh starts,” Blaise proposed, easing his glass towards Hermione. She turned and clinked her glass against his before they both looked towards Draco. All three glasses clinked together and they smiled at each other warmly.

 

Hermione had enjoyed the evening so far. If this was the way Malfoy was going to be, she could  _ maybe _ see them forming a tentative friendship. His playful banter was quite endearing when he wasn't sneering or smirking and calling her horrible names... or just being the pain in the arse she'd come to know and hate. 

 

It was hard to reconcile the boy she knew from a year ago with the man in front of her now, the one who said sorry and didn't call her vile things out of spite or malice. He was now the one who playfully bantered with her over stupid stuff they’d gotten up to in the past. 

 

She sat quietly, feeling a little intimidated being here with them both without her friends, but so far they'd been on their best behaviour and she seemed to be holding her own. 

 

Hermione could tell Draco and Blaise had a good relationship; they seemed so easy and relaxed around one another and she supposed that came from a lifetime of knowing each other, although she couldn't help but feel like Draco had been holding something back while telling her about them. 

 

_ Oh well, save it for another time, _ she thought, drinking some more. She really was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Still thinking about the boys’ relationship, and hoping that she might find something similar one day, Hermione never noticed Draco move from the armchair over to the couch and sitting down next to her, until the seat dipped, alerting her to his presence. 

 

He smiled before settling his head against the back of the sofa. 

 

“So, Granger, you have any idea what you want to do when we finally leave this place?” 

 

He wanted an idea of what she might have planned for her future, so he and Blaise could be a part of it. He was sure she'd have a plan — she was Hermione Granger, after all. 

 

“Oh. Well, I'm not quite sure actually,” she answered, surprised at the question. Since the end of the war, she hadn't really given much thought to her future, beyond coming back to Hogwarts and finishing out her last year. She leant back against the sofa at the same time as Blaise, on her right, did as well. 

 

All three stared up at the ceiling, slightly inebriated and pondering their futures. 

 

“I think I'd like to go travelling.” Blaise announced. “I'm not being big-headed or anything—” Draco snorted at this but was completely ignored “—I mean, we… look, Draco and I have enough money that we don't have to work if we don't wish to. And, after everything that's happened over the last couple of years, I think I'd like to take some time out and go and see some of the world — Muggle and wizard alike. What do the Muggles call it? A gap year?”

 

“That sounds nice,” Hermione answered wistfully, “I've always wanted to see the world. There's so much to explore out there and yes, it’s called a gap year.”

 

Draco and Blaise turned to stare at each other over the top of Hermione’s head, both with looks of amazement written across their features. 

 

They had spoken about this a few times in the not so distant past — they’d both like to get out of Britain for a while. Sure, they were okay  _ now _ , hidden away behind the safety of Hogwarts’ walls where the public and press couldn't get at them, but what would happen when they’d both leave and have to join the real world? Draco was afraid he wouldn't be accepted back into society after his part in the war. Blaise would be tainted by association and Draco didn't want that for him. 

 

They had both decided to wait and see what would happen with Hermione before making any concrete decisions. Apart from each other, she was their number one priority. But to hear her sigh and say she'd like to travel as well was music to their ears. 

 

“You could always come with us,” Draco suggested nonchalantly, not wanting to scare her with the underlying enthusiasm he had for this idea. 

 

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. 

 

“And why not?” Blaise asked. 

 

“Well...” she started, not sure what to say next. It did sound appealing — to get away for a while after school finishes. She wasn't relishing the thought of having to find a job and somewhere to live considering she had fought for too long to live a boring, mundane, nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday kind of life. Hermione wanted more for herself, and it would certainly put the proverbial cat among the pigeons to announce she was off to see the world with the two Slytherin princes. 

 

She smiled, imagining the looks on Harry’s and Ron's faces. But no, what was she thinking? There was no way she would go off to Merlin-knew-where with a guy who, up until a couple of days ago, had been her worst enemy. She knew there would come a time — if they wanted to hold this friendship — that they would have to sit down together and discuss everything they were both currently holding back but, for now, she was happy to get to know this new version of Draco Malfoy. 

 

“Well... what, Granger?” Draco asked, waiting anxiously for her answer. 

 

“I’ve already been offered a few places within the Ministry, and one of them does sound good, but… I don't know…” she broke off at the end, sighing heavily. 

 

“You don't know if you want to work some boring job and go home to your cat until you find a half decent bloke to cuddle up to instead?” Blaise asked, turning to look at her. 

 

“I wouldn't quite put it like that, but, yes, I think I want better for myself. Does that make me sound selfish, because—”

 

“NO,” they both shouted at the same time, making her jump. 

 

She looked from one to the other, Draco was shaking his head and Blaise’s brown eyes were wide in disbelief. 

 

“Don't ever think you're selfish,  _ Cara _ .” Blaise spoke softly. “You are the most selfless person I know. You would do  _ anything _ for practically anyone, without thinking of your own happiness first. After what you've been through over the last few years, no one would blame you for wanting to take a break.”

 

Hermione smiled, “Thank you, Blaise. That was sweet of you to say. I'm still unsure of my plans, but I have nine months to figure it all out.” She moved to stand up from the sofa and placing her drink on the table in front of them. 

 

“Where are you going?” Draco asked, sitting up straight to look at her. 

 

“Only to the toilet,” she giggled like one of those silly school girls she hated. Now she'd stood up, she could definitely feel the effects of the alcohol as the room started to move around her. She stumbled over Draco's legs and made her way to the bathroom. 

 

“Bloody hell, Blaise,” Draco breathed out loudly, frustrated. He put his glass down so he could run his hands through his hair and across his face. “Just imagining the things we could get up to together with her in foreign countries is making me hard. I'm trying my best not to pounce on her right now.”

 

“Calm down, Draco,” Blaise urged, drinking a large gulp of whisky. “Think about it. She said herself, she has nine months to make a decision. We just have to make sure  _ our _ option is the one she picks.” He smirked at his boyfriend wickedly. 

 

Just as Draco was going to retort, Hermione came back into the room looking slightly wobbly. 

 

“Are you okay,  _ Cara _ ?” Blaise asked as she made her way back to the sofa. She fell against the seat in a most unladylike fashion, knocking into Draco. She muttered an apology and reached for her drink. 

 

“Just peachy,” Hermione answered Blaise, grinning madly at him. She sipped her drink and placed the glass back down. “Why do you call me  _ Cara _ , Blaise? And what does it mean?” 

 

“It's a word of endearment. In Italian, it means ‘Dear One’ or ‘Beloved’,” Blaise answered her truthfully, trying to suppress a grin at her drunkenness. 

 

Hermione seemed to ponder this before asking, “And why do you call me that?”

 

Blaise gulped. “Well… I suppose you are a dear one… or, at least, I hope you will be,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of her knuckles.  

 

Hermione froze at the action and looked up at him. He had her knuckles pressed to his lips, and his eyes had darkened considerably. She felt the atmosphere change, and little sparks of electricity zapped through her body. His lips were soft and warm against her hand. 

 

“You… you… hope I will be? What do you mean by that?” She whispered. She didn't want to break the moment they seemed to be having, forgetting about Draco behind her until a pair of hands rested on her shoulders and she felt him shuffle closer to her. 

 

She gasped as she felt his breath tickle the back of her neck.“Exactly what he said, Hermione,” Draco whispered into her ear. “We both hope you will become a beloved one to us. Come with us at the end of school… please. We guarantee you'll have the time of your life and you’ll be well looked after.”

 

Her brain was swimming having them so close to her, the alcohol heightening her senses. She couldn't think straight with Draco’s warm breath fanning across her throat and Blaise peppering kisses across the back of her hand, along the inside of her wrist, rolling her jumper up as he continued to kiss up to the crook of her elbow. 

 

All Hermione could feel at that moment was relief that it was her right arm he was kissing. They didn't know about her scar, and she didn't want them to see it. 

 

She had to get out of there. How had the atmosphere changed so quickly? It had gone from lightheartedness and playful banter to them both touching her and almost begging that she go with them both next summer.  _ No!  _ She needed to stand and move to her room. 

 

_ Just stand up, Hermione! _

 

The two warm bodies moved closer, trapping her between them. Their duel scents making her feel heady as Draco started running his fingers softly up and down her throat. His soothing touch continued down the back of her spine until he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to him while nuzzling her neck with his nose and taking in a breath of her vanilla and honey scent. She felt him shiver. 

 

“Wha… what… are you both doing?” She stammered, trying to catch her breath. 

 

“Just relax,” Draco purred into her ear. 

 

_ OH FUCK, NO! _ She screamed to herself. 

 

Hermione was enjoying the things Blaise and Draco were doing; she could feel the blush on her face spreading down to her chest. Her breathing was becoming erratic as she was enveloped in the masculine scents of both wizards. 

 

She grabbed hold of the rational part of her brain and quickly pulled herself out of their embraces, stumbling in her attempt to stand up. Looking wide-eyed and panicked, she took a step backwards, almost falling over the coffee table. 

 

“I… I… err… really should go to bed,” she stammered. “Yes. That's what I've got to do.” 

 

Her heart was pounding and her brain foggy with the haze of alcohol and — she almost didn’t want to admit it — lust. She was feeling turned on at what had just happened. 

 

“Bed... must go to bed,” she muttered as she made her way around the couch and towards her bedroom door. 

 

Draco reached out an arm and just caught her hand as she moved. She stopped and stared down at them both, mortified that they had just witnessed such flustered and uncoordinated clumsiness.

 

“Sweet dreams, Granger.” Draco winked as he released her arm. Blaise smiled at her before she wobbled over to the bedroom door and almost fell through it in her haste to get away from the Slytherins — before she did something she would certainly regret in the morning. 

  
  



	9. Chapter Nine

This Life

Chapter Nine

~•~•~•~

 

Draco and Blaise decided to stay up for a while after Hermione had escaped; they both needed to calm down, and the only way to do that was to drink more whisky while they talked about what had happened. “Fuck, Blaise, she smells so good,” Draco declared loudly, falling back into the seat after finishing his fifth glass of booze.

 

“Yeah, she does,” his boyfriend agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “I can't believe she didn't push us both away immediately. Why do you think that was?”

 

“She’s had a lot of Firewhisky,” Draco declared, swinging the near-empty bottle in front of him and making the contents slosh about noisily. “You know she’ll probably avoid us tomorrow now. She'll be so embarrassed.” 

 

“It was probably a good thing she stopped us when she did, or we'd be a tangle of drunken, naked limbs on that rug right now,” Blaise laughed, pointing at a spot on the rug in front of the fire. 

 

Draco groaned at the image in his head and turned to his boyfriend. 

 

“Prick tease.”

 

“Who said I was teasing?” Blaise answered. 

 

Draco stood and took his hand. “Bedroom,” he declared, before pulling Blaise from the sofa and towards their room. 

 

~•~•~

 

Hours later Draco awoke with a start and leaned up on his elbows. Something had woken him. A sound of some sort. Listening through the darkness, he jumped when a flash of white light lit up the bedroom, followed by a loud rumble rolling across the sky.

 

_ Just thunder _ , he thought, placing one hand over his beating heart. He was just about to lie back down when he heard a faint scream coming from the other bedroom. Slipping out of bed quietly, so as not to wake Blaise, Draco moved towards the bathroom door and walked through to Hermione's room on the other side. He wasn't sure if he'd heard the noise or if his mind was playing tricks on him after being woken up by the storm. Deciding not to disturb her, he turned to make his way back when the scream echoed again. 

 

This time he turned and opened Hermione's door quickly, knowing it was definitely her making that noise. She was clearly having a nightmare as she threw her head from side to side, mumbling, “No, no, no. Please stop. Please, it hurts.”

 

Draco couldn't bear to see her like this, not knowing what she was witnessing behind her eyes. He had to stop it, so he made his way over to the bed, lifted the covers and climbed in beside her. 

 

He reached over and encased Hermione’s back against his front, wrapping his arm around her waist and capturing her own arm in the process to stop her thrashing about. He bent his head forward and put his lips almost to her ear, her curls tickling his nose. 

 

“Relax, Granger. I'm here. Nothing bad is going to happen,” he whispered, hoping to calm the witch down. He could feel her shaking in his arms and still mumbling, “No... no, no, no.”

 

“Shhh,” he cooed, gently rocking her backwards and forwards. “I'm here, Hermione. I'm here now. I won't let anything bad happen to you, not now or ever. I'll keep you safe.” 

 

He felt her shiver as he blew his warm breath across her ear and down her neck. She sighed and seemed to calm in his arms. 

 

Draco waited a few minutes before gently moving them so he had Hermione cradled in the nook of his shoulder. He placed her arm around his waist and turned his head to nestle his nose against her curls and inhale her vanilla and honey scent. She didn't stir as he lightly kissed her forehead. 

 

“Sleep now, Hermione. Dream only good things,” he whispered, intent on giving it a few minutes before moving back to Blaise’s room. Before he knew it though, his eyes had started to close, surrounded by the scent of the witch who was now lying peacefully in his arms.

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione could feel herself waking from one of the best night's sleep she'd had in years; she felt calm and relaxed, even though she could feel a slight headache from the alcohol she had consumed the previous evening. As her mind came back to consciousness, she became aware of another body in the bed, pressed up against her. 

 

Her arm was draped across a hard, warm chest that was slowly rising and falling, a soft snoring rasping from above her. She tried to stay calm and not panic, slowly moving her head back to get a look at whoever it was. 

 

She knew it was either Draco or Blaise; they were the only three with the password to their room. What she was  _ actually _ thinking was who would she see when she opened her eyes? And why, in the name of all that was magical was one of them in bed with her? Then she found herself hoping to Merlin himself that it was Blaise she was cuddled into; it would be too awkward for it to be Malfoy. As her eyes slowly opened, she was met with a mop of blond hair, and she immediately disentangled herself, shooting up from the bed.

 

“WHAT THE HELL, MALFOY?” She screamed, moving over to her wardrobe to grab her dressing gown, noticing she was only in a tank top and pair of boy shorts. “WHAT THE  _ ACTUAL _ FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?” 

 

She was furious. After getting drunk with them both last night, followed by what she  _ thought _ was them giving her a blatant come on, she had staggered off to bed, drunk, confused, aroused... and confused about being aroused. 

 

Her plan — before she'd fallen asleep last night — was to sneak out early and ignore the pair of them for as long as possible while she thought about what had happened. 

 

She did  _ not _ expect to wake up curled around Slytherin’s biggest snake and — up until a few days ago — the boy she had detested. She was also trying to understand why she had awoken feeling rested and calm; she was so used to waking extremely tired, fatigued and normally upset after a nightmare. Surely that had nothing to do with him?  _ Damn it all _ . What the hell was going on with her?

 

“Shh, Granger. Not so loud, my head is thumping, and your shrieking isn't helping,” came the muffled response of Draco Malfoy. 

 

“MALFOY,” she continued to shriek. She now stood at the end of the bed glaring down at him with her arms crossed around her middle. “You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me what in Godric's name you're doing in my bed and then get out of my bloody room before I hex your ‘little Malfoys’ right off!”  

 

Draco sniggered at Hermione’s nickname for his balls and opened his eyes to the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen — other than the times he woke to Blaise’s mouth sucking his cock first thing in the morning. She looked furious and radiant all at the same time; her hair was a tangled mess of wild curls going in every direction; her face flushed and chest heaving with deep breaths. Having her arms crossed just accentuated those fabulous looking breasts. He smirked at her.

 

“DO NOT SMIRK AT ME, SNAKE,” Hermione shouted at him. He visibly flinched at her tone. She really was losing her cool with every passing second. 

 

“Okay, okay, calm down,” he tried. When she flared her nostrils at him, he sat up and raised his hands out in front of him in surrender. He was getting worried for the safety of his  _ little Malfoys. _

 

“Hermione,” he called her name softly, not wanting her to get anymore irate than she already seemed, “Just sit down for a second and I'll explain what I'm doing here. It's nothing sinister, I promise.” 

 

Hermione huffed, still annoyed, but sat down on the edge of the bed anyway. Draco ran his hands through his hair and looked at her. 

 

“There was a storm last night and I thought it had woken me,” he started to explain before she interrupted. 

 

“ _ Thought  _ the storm had woken you?” 

 

“I also heard you scream,  _ that _ was what woke me.” He waited for a reaction. 

 

She took a small, sharp intake of breath, realising she must have been having a nightmare. 

 

That was funny; she couldn’t remember it. 

 

Draco continued, “I opened your door, just to check on you, but you screamed again and you were kind of thrashing about.”

 

“Oh, God,” Hermione cried, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes as she covered her face with her hands. The only other person who had seen her in the throes of a nightmare was Harry. When Ron had left them in the forest, and just after she and Harry had returned from Godric's Hollow, the nightmares started. Thankfully she'd only had a few, and they'd seemed to stop when Ron had returned, so he'd never experienced them.   

 

Back then the dreams used to be about her family being found and killed, or her friends dying because she failed to save them. That was when Hermione first started to realise that the war, and everything that was happening, was starting to take a toll on her mental well-being. But she had to stay strong for Harry and Ron. They needed her, and she couldn’t let them down. 

 

After the Final Battle, once she had returned to her childhood home, Hermione took time for herself — to come to terms with everything since she’d first stepped foot into the wizarding world. She was definitely having a hard time dealing with it all; her brain was so used to overthinking. After the war, she found she couldn't get a moment's peace with the tumultuous thoughts rolling through her mind, and at all times of the day as well. And so, they had seeped into her nightmares — which had returned with full force. 

 

She didn't want anybody to know. In Hermione's eyes they made her weak; she had been strong for such a long time, just trying to survive. She didn't know any other way now, the mask she wore firmly in place. So for Malfoy, of all people, to see her that vulnerable and terrified was a bitter pill to swallow, even if all he did was offer her comfort. 

 

“I've seen enough of my mother’s nightmares in the past, Hermione. I knew the only way to calm you down was to hold you, tell you everything was alright,” Draco interrupted her thoughts, “I could've hurt you if I'd tried to force you awake, so I just held you until it had passed.”  

 

“That doesn't explain what you're still doing in my bed,” she grumbled. She'd calmed down a little once he confirmed nothing untoward was going on, but still — Malfoy in bed with her wasn't what she was expecting to wake up to. 

 

“I had every intention of going back to my bed but—” he cut off sheepishly. 

 

“But, what?” Hermione inquired, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

 

“Ugh… Don't look at me like that, Granger. I was drunk, okay? And tired, and you were so warm and smelt so good that I just dozed off. I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to fall asleep,” he huffed, throwing himself back down on the pillows, mortified at the words falling unbidden from his lips. 

 

She stared at him slack-jawed, not expecting  _ that _ response. 

 

“Well… o-okay,” she stammered, unsure of herself now. “I guess…  _ thank you _ is the right thing to say here… so... thanks, Draco.”

 

He looked up at her when she called him by his given name. She looked contrite and embarrassed, and he breathed a sigh of relief for his  _ little Malfoys. _

 

“You're welcome, Hermione. Now really, do you have any Pepper-Up lying around, because you know… my head?” He said, pointing a finger towards his temple. 

 

“No, I don't,” she confirmed with a small smile, “Now would you kindly get your arse out of my bed and back to your own?” 

 

She moved from the bed to grab a towel for a shower and pulled the duvet cover from Malfoy's body. 

 

“Graaaaanger,” he whined, “It's cold.”

 

“Well, get up and go back in your own bed, Malfoy. I'm sure Blaise will warm you up,” she sniggered. 

 

He huffed and muttered under his breath about insufferable book worms waking him up before he stood and stretched his arms over his head. Hermione's mouth went dry at the sight of his taut abdomen. Draco really did keep himself in shape and he was wearing nothing but tight black boxer shorts. He reminded her of one of those Calvin Klein models plastered across billboards in London. She averted her eyes quickly and waited for him to move towards the bathroom, following behind, snatching up her wand from the side table on her way. 

 

When Draco had made it to the door of his and Blaise's room, he turned back to look at Hermione. 

 

“You okay now, Granger?” He asked concerned, lifting her head with a finger under her chin. 

 

Her big brown eyes locked with his cool grey ones. 

 

“Yeah, I'll be okay. And... thanks again, Malfoy. It would have been horrible to wake up from that with a raging hangover,” she smiled softly. 

 

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning and going back into his own room. 

 

Hermione sighed as he closed the door and she placed a locking charm on it. She didn't want either of them walking in while she was showering. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

The hot water washed over her body, helping clear her mind as she thought about what a crazy few days it had been. 

 

Apologies, confessions, fainting, getting drunk with two Slytherins, letting them get a little too close in her inebriated state, and then waking up next to Malfoy. She lathered her honey shampoo into her hair as she sighed, the feelings welling up over these individual situations, all revolving around one man. She had to concede that, what she’d seen so far, Draco had changed — a lot. What he'd done for her last night she never would've expected — him offering comfort when she was at her most vulnerable, and not even goading her for it the next morning. 

 

She finished her shower and dressed quickly, wanting to make a clean getaway from her room, and made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione spent her Saturday morning after breakfast in the library, under the pretence of doing homework while Harry and Ron went off to play a friendly game of Quidditch. What she actually did was find her favourite secret alcove at the back of the library, where she knew she wouldn't be disturbed so she could think quietly. She was feeling more out of control than ever, and it wasn’t a feeling she liked. Hermione liked to have her thoughts in order and to know exactly what she was doing. She hadn’t felt like that in a long time. 

 

She took a seat, removing her textbooks from her bag to set up on the desk — just in case anyone came by. At least it would  _ look _ like she was studying. She leaned back in the soft, comfy chair she had claimed as  _ hers _ years ago. Hermione was delighted that this corner of the library hadn’t been damaged in the battle; she liked to come here to think and study, and no one ever really ventured this far back so she was never interrupted.

 

She sighed as she thought. Hermione couldn’t believe they’d only been back at school for such a short amount of time. It felt like months to her. First off, she thought about Draco and his  _ apology. _ She knew he’d definitely meant it. And he’d been nothing but nice since then as well. 

 

Last night had been weird, though. Just what were they both playing at — touching her like that... and why had she let it happen? Blaise had peppered her wrist and arm with kisses with Draco behind her, running his fingers down her neck and back. Then he’d pulled her against him, and she’d felt how aroused he had been. Her feelings at that time were the sole reason she had run off to her bedroom; Hermione had felt aroused, and there had been a dampening in her underwear. She hadn’t understood her reaction, and it had scared her, hence the reason for retreating. She'd felt the need to get away from both men and her own riotous feelings. 

 

And then this morning she had been wrapped around Malfoy. Even though he'd given a viable excuse for his being there, it still didn't sit well with her. The fact that she felt well rested, didn’t escape her notice either. But what to do about it now? She had no idea. Had they just been drunk last night and trying to get a rise out of her? Or embarrass her? Although… they  _ had _ been quite adamant that she go travelling with them at the end of the year. They seemed sincere to her, and Hermione had always been a good judge of character. She’d known that Draco was a prat the very first time she laid eyes on him, and he’d proved that time and time again over the years. But now… now that had all been turned around. 

 

She thought about what he had probably had to go through in the last few years, and it upset her to think of it. Malfoy wanted to be friends with her now — that was something she was willing to try, even though they still had a lot to discuss between them. If they wanted any chance of a real friendship, then the air definitely needed to be cleared. That could wait for a while, though. 

 

Another thought that popped into her head was Blaise. She didn’t understand his angle either. As far as she knew, he and Draco were in a loving and committed relationship together. He’d never spoken to Hermione in all of their time at school, except once at the Yule Ball in their fourth year. She hadn’t paid it any mind at the time but now, after last night, she was feeling differently about it. Groaning and leaning forward, she banged her head against the table in frustration. She couldn’t think about this anymore. The boys would finish with their practice soon, so she packed her bag up and started to head towards the Great Hall to meet her two best friends for lunch.

 

~•~•~•~

 

Once the Slytherins had heard Hermione leave through the portrait that morning, Blaise had bombarded Draco with questions about how he’d ended up in her bed for the night.

 

“Don’t pout, Blaise,” Draco had snapped at his sulking lover, who was propped up against the headboard and had his arms folded in front of him. 

 

“I just don’t understand how you ended up in bed with her,” he declared, throwing his arms in the air in obvious indignation.

 

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco raised his eyes to meet Blaise’s dark glare. 

 

“How many more times, Blaise?” He asked him. “The storm woke me up, and I heard Hermione scream. I couldn't just leave her. What would you have done?” 

 

Draco took a deep breath, trying to keep his rising anger under control — something he’d learned to do quite well over the last year. 

 

“I know… I know, Draco. And I also know that it’s you with the bigger mountain to climb when it comes to that little witch but I just think, after last night with the drinking and then touching her, did she not lose her temper with you this morning?”

 

“Of course she did,” Draco sighed loudly. “She was absolutely furious when she realised I was in bed with her. She calmed down somewhat when I explained what I was doing there.”

 

Blaise rubbed his hands down his face before continuing. “I think we need to back off a little, Draco.” He watched the blond’s eyebrows raise.

 

“Let me finish,” Blaise continued, holding his hands up in front of him. “You know our girl is having a hard time, and I just think that we need to be there to support and encourage her. We can’t be over her all of the time — confusing her.”

 

Draco smirked at this. 

 

“Don't be a pervert right now, Draco, I'm being serious. We need to back off and just become friends with her first,” Blaise responded harshly. He needed to get this point through to Malfoy in case they ended up scaring Hermione off. 

 

Sighing and running his hands through his hair, Draco acquiesced to his boyfriend. He’d had so much fun last night with Blaise and Hermione, and to be able to finally get his hands on her body had been amazing. And then this morning — even though she’d been angry to start with — waking up in her bed, surrounded by her scent, had felt extraordinary. He knew Blaise was right though, they needed to back off — just a little.

 

“Okay, you’re right. We’ll speak to her later when she comes back and apologise to her, yes?”

 

“Yes, Draco, definitely. We need to be smart about this,” Blaise breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“I agree, now can we stop talking about it and find some other form of entertainment?” He asked, winking playfully at his boyfriend. “I’m feeling quite turned on... fuck, I can still smell her on me.”

 

“Let's see what we can do about that then,” Blaise grinned, reaching for Draco. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

As Hermione walked out of the library, trying to sort her books out in her overloaded bag, she heard a female voice calling her name. 

 

Looking over her shoulder, she was shocked to see Pansy Parkinson leaning against a column watching Hermione fiddle with her satchel. Her two new Slytherin housemates might be close to the Parkinson heiress, but  _ she _ certainly wasn’t and didn’t trust her one bit. Hermione took a deep breath as Pansy made her way over to stand in front of Hermione. 

 

Looking the Gryffindor in the eye, she asked, "Could I speak with you please, Granger?"

 

Hermione sighed loudly…  _ so much for her quiet year at Hogwarts.  _


	10. Chapter Ten

This Life

Chapter Ten

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione spent the next few days trying her best to ignore the two Slytherins she was currently sharing living space with — a hard feat as they seemed to be wherever she went, be it their common room — Draco having practically moved in — their lessons, the Great Hall, everywhere she looked she caught one of their worried glances at least ten times a day. It was unnerving how much they seemed to watch her. 

 

She couldn’t look either in the face after her chat with Pansy last Saturday afternoon. It was now nearing the end of the week, and apart from the odd  _ good morning _ to each of the wizards, she’d successfully stayed away from them both. She could tell Draco was slowly losing his temper with the silent treatment and knew things were going to come to a head at some point in the very near future. 

 

She made excuses to run to either her quarters or the Gryffindor common room rather than stay in the same space as them. She needed to think, especially after what Parkinson had told her. It was too unbelievable for Hermione to even comprehend. Harry and Ron had started to notice how off she’d been over the last few days and, even though Ginny was still being vile to her, they’d noted the amount of time she was spending in Gryffindor Tower. 

 

On Thursday evening, Harry plopped down on the sofa next to her. Hermione was staring into the fireplace opposite, far away inside her head, so he nudged her shoulder with his, making Hermione look to him.

 

“Hey, Harry. What’s up?” She sighed, turning back to stare at the orange flames. 

 

“Hermione, Ron and I are worried about you. What’s been going on?” He asked worriedly.

 

“Nothing, Harry. Everything is fine,” she tried to answer cheerfully, not quite pulling it off.

 

“Now, Hermione, what have you always said about lying?” Ron asked, coming up to the back of the sofa and placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

She reached out to take his hand and smiled softly up at him.

 

“I’m not lying, you big oaf,” she giggled.

 

He made his way around the couch and sat down, both boys grabbing one of her hands to lay in their laps.

 

“Come on, ‘Mione,” Ron pressed, “you were all excited about starting school, being Head Girl and everything. _ And _ you took it in your stride when you found out about Zabini being Head Boy. You even told us you felt better about being around Malfoy after the git's apology. So what’s happened since the weekend that’s made you retreat up here nearly every night?”

 

“I… well… I had a chat with Pansy Parkinson on Saturday, and I don’t know what to make of it if I'm honest.” 

 

As Harry asked her to explain the nature of the conversation she’d had with Slytherin's Princess, they were interrupted by the loud, shrill voice of Ginny Weasley.

 

“Oh, just marvellous!” The redhead shrieked. “I thought with you being made Head Girl, I wouldn’t have to see you in our common room any more.” Ginny sneered nastily, pointing a finger in Hermione’s direction and noticing her brother and boyfriend holding her hands. “But, of course, got these two wrapped around your fingers, as usual, I see. What’s the matter, Hermione, had enough of your snakes already, you've come back for these two dolts?” 

 

“Now, wait just a minute, Ginny,” Ron shouted, letting go of Hermione’s hand and jumping up from the sofa to get in his sister’s furious face. She may have been his sibling, but he was entirely fed up with the way Ginny had treated Hermione over the years. In his mind, it was completely uncalled for, Hermione had never done anything to his sister, and the rest of the Weasleys thought of her as family. It was jealousy on Ginny’s part; she had been the only girl in the family so, of course, attention had been paid to Ginny all of her life. When Hermione became friends with Harry and Ron in first year and met the rest of the Weasleys, it had put Ginny’s nose out of joint.  

 

Hermione had always tried to include Ginny but was rebuffed by the youngest Weasley every time. She had stopped trying after fifth year when Ginny had hexed her from behind in a corridor one day, causing a fight between the two. Hermione tried to stay away from the witch since then. 

 

Things had been really tense between the two girls when Hermione stayed at the Burrow after the Final Battle. Ginny had gotten it into her head that something had happened between Hermione and Harry when the trio had run off together to hunt down the remaining Horcruxes. She knew there had been a time when Ron had not been with them, and  _ no one _ could convince her that nothing had gone on between the two friends. 

 

“Get away from me, Ron! Why do you always take  _ her _ side?” She hissed, glaring at Hermione. 

 

“For fuck's sake, Ginny, I don’t always take Hermione’s side. You’re being totally unreasonable and this has been going on for far too long. What’s your problem with her?” Ron shouted back. “In fact, don’t answer. Come with me... right now.” 

 

He grabbed Ginny by the arm and marched her out of the common room, the younger Weasley screaming at her brother to let her go. 

 

Hermione and Harry looked at each other in muted shock. Exhaling loudly, removing his glasses and rubbing his hands down his face, he asked if she fancied getting some fresh air and going for a walk with him. She nodded, and they both got up to leave the common room.

 

~•~•~•~

 

The two Gryffindors walked around the side of the lake for a while in silence, both in contemplation. It was cold so Hermione cast a warming charm around them.

 

“Sorry about Ginny,” Harry began, stopping them to sit down, their backs against a large rock. He watched his friend pick up some small stones and throw them into the lake, staring at the rippling water.

 

“Oh, Harry. Ginny is the least of my problems right now.” Hermione's voice broke on the last word, tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes. She sniffed and Harry instantly slid his arm around her. She leaned into his comforting embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. 

 

“Please talk to me, Hermione. We’re really worried about you.”

 

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

 

Tightening his grip, he asked her to start at the beginning. “Start with why you didn’t meet us for lunch on Saturday like you said you were going to. Something obviously happened because you haven’t been right since then.”

 

She sighed as she started to speak, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay. Well… as I was leaving the library to meet you and Ron for lunch, Pansy cornered me outside, asking if we could take a walk and have a chat. I was obviously wary, you know? But I was also curious to hear what she had to say.” Hermione looked out across the lake, going back in her mind to the conversation that had taken place.

 

“So? You went with her and talked? What was said to put you in this kind of funk?” Harry had thought being back at Hogwarts would be good for Hermione. But, ever since last weekend, she seemed to have reverted to how she’d been at the Burrow in the summer — quiet and withdrawn. He didn't like it. 

 

“Yes, we went for a walk. We actually ended up right here and spent the rest of the afternoon talking.” Hermione lifted her head to look at her friend’s face. She wanted to see his reaction to her next words. “She started by apologising to me, Harry.” 

 

It was worth sitting up just to see the look of bafflement in his bright green eyes. 

 

“What?” He whispered.

 

“You heard me. She  _ apologised _ ,” Hermione confirmed. 

 

“Wow. I wouldn’t have expected that from her.”

 

“Neither did I, so imagine my surprise when it happened. Once we’d cleared the air, we began to talk about all kinds of different things. We actually have quite a lot in common.” Hermione smiled, remembering last Saturday, spent there in the late afternoon sun, getting to know the Slytherin witch. 

 

“She told me everything that happened with her parents during the war.”

 

“Which was?” Harry asked inquisitively. There were so many rumours about what had happened, he didn't know which one was true. 

 

“That's not my place to say, Harry. If she wants you to know, then she'll tell you.”

 

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. It pisses me off no end when people assume they know everything about my life as well.” He could understand Pansy’s wariness around this subject. “So, she apologised, told you about her parents. Did you tell her about yours?”

 

Hermione nodded her head slightly. She'd been floored by Pansy’s reaction when she'd explained about Obliviating her parents and sending them off to Australia. Pansy had told her that, if she'd been in that situation, she would have done the same thing. Both witches had lost their parents in this war and could understand each other a little better because of it. So Hermione had found it easy to talk to Pansy, feeling like a small weight had been lifted having told someone outside of her  _ inner circle  _ about her parents. They hadn’t ventured into some of the darker things from the war; Hermione had been pleased to avoid that subject. 

 

“I’m glad you and Parkinson were able to set your differences aside, Hermione, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been so down recently.” 

 

Hermione sat up, crossing her legs and facing her fellow Gryffindor. 

 

“While we're having this conversation I feel that I should tell you something.”

 

“What?” He asked suspiciously, noticing the nervous look in her eyes. 

 

“The day we returned to school, I passed out from a panic attack right in front of Malfoy.”

 

“WHAT?” Harry shouted, jumping up from the ground, staring angrily down at Hermione as she recoiled in fright. “Sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean to scare you but, please explain what happened with Malfoy? Why didn’t you tell me about this? You  _ told  _ me the git apologised to you.” 

 

He started pacing in front of her, running his hands through his messy black hair as she started to talk.

 

“Please sit back down, Harry. You’re making me nauseous with the pacing.”

 

He did as she asked, sitting and taking her hands in his, rubbing across the cold fingers he found there in a show of support and comfort.

 

“Go on then. Tell me.” He smiled, letting her know he’d calmed a little. 

 

She recalled what happened that first night when she found herself face to face with Malfoy, how scared she’d been. 

 

“I froze, Harry. I just froze. I didn’t know what to do and as he came nearer to me—”

 

“He what?”

 

“All he did was walk towards me; he wasn’t going to do anything apart from say hello but, the nearer he got, the more I began losing it. Once he’d stepped directly in front of me, I was so panicked that I passed out.”

 

“Oh, my God, Hermione. Why didn’t you tell me about this? And what happened afterwards?” Harry asked as he held her hands tighter. 

 

He didn’t know what to do about his best friend’s state of mind. She said she wanted to be left alone to deal with everything over the summer so he and Ron had let her go, thinking that she’d be okay by the time term started. One of the reasons he had come back to Hogwarts was to keep an eye on her. 

 

Hermione thought she had convinced Harry and Ron to complete their education but, in truth, they had both returned to look after her. 

 

_ And, by the looks of it, we haven’t been doing a very good job _ . 

 

“When I woke,” she continued, “I was on the sofa. Blaise was there, Malfoy had gone. We talked. He suggested I hear Malfoy out, that it’d be good to listen to what he wanted to say to me.”

 

Letting out a deep breath, Harry nodded. He wasn’t the Slytherin’s biggest fan, but he wasn’t so blinded by hate and bigotry that he couldn’t see Malfoy had changed. They all had after the war, in some way or another. 

 

Harry had spent a lot of time reflecting over the summer as well. He’d been so pig-headed during sixth year about Malfoy being a Death Eater but, even though that had turned out to be true, there were so many more layers to peel back. Now that he had had the time to think clearly, without the stresses and strains of the war — and not having a piece of Voldemort’s soul living in him — he saw Malfoy as a boy who didn’t have a choice, just like he hadn’t at the time either. That was one of the main reasons Harry had given evidence at Malfoy’s trial. Hermione hadn’t been able to face it, but a long-worded letter was read out before the Wizengamot on her behalf, defending the Slytherin as well. 

 

Harry had remembered looking at the blond’s shocked face as Hermione's words were read aloud by Kingsley Shacklebolt. He couldn't describe the look that crossed Malfoy’s features when the last lines of the letter were read:

 

_ I would like to say one more thing.  _

 

_ Malfoy, I know you are listening to this being read to you and I would just like to say that I don't blame you. For anything.  _

 

_ And I forgive you.  _

 

_ I wish you all the best in the future.  _

 

_ Hermione Granger  _

 

Harry had watched in disbelief as he observed Draco Malfoy gulp and wipe at his eyes. He hadn’t told Hermione. 

 

He knew that Hermione was not dealing with the fact that Malfoy had stood and watched Bellatrix torture her, having comforted her when she cried some nights reliving it — and the nightmares she’d had to endure had been traumatic. He just wanted  _ his  _ Hermione back — the witch she had been before they’d left at the end of sixth year. 

 

Harry was sure there was more to it though — and Draco's apology to her last week had proved him right — but he was concerned at what had put her in this sullen, depressive mood for the last few days. 

 

“Okay, so what did the she-snake say?” He wasn’t going to relent until Hermione had told him. 

 

“She said she owed you an apology for her part in what happened in the Great Hall just before the Final Battle.”

 

Harry snorted at this. He couldn't believe the witch had apologised for that. Merlin, they had all been so young, none of them ready for what had been thrust upon them. He was looking forward to hearing that apology for himself though — not that he believed he'd ever get it in person. 

 

“The conversation turned to Malfoy and Blaise.”

 

“And?” Harry pushed. 

 

“Okay… well…” she gulped nervously. “Draco and Blaise had told me that they wished to build a friendship with me and put the past firmly behind us, okay? So I suggested that, after the Prefects’ meeting last week, we spend the evening together in the common room... getting to know each other.” 

 

She watched Harry raise an eyebrow at this, a skeptical look on his face. Before he could say anything, however, she carried on. “They invited me to go travelling with them once school is finished.”

 

“What?” Harry was dumbfounded. ‘What’ seemed to be his word of the day but everything Hermione said was shocking him. 

 

“Yeah, I know. That was my response as well.” One corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile at the memory of what they'd asked. “I don’t know if I’ve spoken to you about this or not, Harry, but I feel I don’t want to leave Hogwarts and just start one of the numerous Ministry jobs I’ve been offered. I want to do more with my life than just be a paper pusher, you know? And I think a year or so to do what I want after school would be really good for me. Plus, there are so many things I’d like to see,” she explained wistfully, imagining in her mind’s eye some of the places she had read about. At the very top of her list was Australia. If the Aurors hadn’t managed to track down her parents before she finished Hogwarts, then she would definitely be going there to look for them herself. She missed them both so much. Hermione wasn’t even sure if the spell could be reversed, but she was certainly going to try —  _ if  _ they could be found. 

 

“I know you don’t want that kind of life, Hermione, but... really? Off to see the world with Malfoy and Zabini?”

 

“I didn’t agree to anything, Harry. I’m just saying that they offered and I’ve thought about it. Travelling, I mean…  _ not  _ going off with them,” she clarified, seeing his gaze darken in anger. “Anyway, that’s not what’s got my head all screwed up. We were drinking on Friday, and… well… they… erm… well, they—”

 

“For Godric’s sake, Hermione, you’re really worrying me now. What did that pair of slippery fucking snakes do to you?” He demanded. 

 

If they had hurt one hair on her head, he’d kill them. He was sure Ron would help him.

 

Hermione looked up into Harry’s eyes before she began her speech about  _ exactly _ what had occurred with Draco and Blaise, and the following conversation with Pansy. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “Okay, Harry. I’ll tell you. You’ll be mad and want to interrupt me but please don’t, or I don’t think I’ll be able to get it all out.”

 

He nodded his acquiescence, really quite concerned over what she was about to divulge.

 

“As I was saying, we were drinking Firewhisky and sitting on the sofa together. Blaise and Draco were trying to convince me about the travelling idea. Blaise started to kiss the back of my hand and wrist, Draco was close behind me as well. Harry, I think they were trying to come onto me but I don’t know. We were all very drunk. I ended up running off to my room...” she sighed again, this wasn’t the worst bit she had to tell him. 

 

Harry’s face had turned bright red — Hermione saw the anger flash in his eyes — but he’d promised not to react so concentrated on his breathing as she continued.

 

“On Saturday morning, I woke up next to Malfoy in my bed and—”

 

“WHAT? What do you mean you woke in  _ your _ bed next to  _ Malfoy _ ?” He spat. 

 

He was fucking furious. What had that blond bastard done to her?

 

“Harry, please calm down,” Hermione begged him, grabbing tighter onto his hands so he wouldn’t get up and try to find Draco without hearing the rest of the story. She watched him take some deep breaths before looking at her, noticing the pleading look in her eyes. He nodded, letting her know he was okay to hear the rest. Thank God she was having this conversation with Harry and not Ron — the redhead wasn’t known for being able to control his temper. Draco would have already been a dead man. 

 

“Obviously, I was furious when I found him sleeping next to me. But once I’d yelled at him to explain himself, he said that the storm had woken him and he’d heard me scream. Harry, I must have been having a nightmare,” she whispered. 

 

Harry was all too aware of the distress he’d seen her in when she was caught in one. 

 

“He just offered me comfort, that’s all. He said that was the way he’d helped other people through. He held me until I had calmed down... and it worked because I don’t remember anything about it. When I asked him why he had spent the whole night, he said he’d been drunk and just fell asleep. Something about me smelling good, apparently.” 

 

“Okaaay,“ Harry dragged out, not convinced in the slightest. “And what was it that Pansy said?” He felt like he was getting somewhere now, although he wasn't happy about what had happened. He imagined she must have been scared to wake and find someone in bed with her — even if he could see Malfoy's intentions were good. 

 

“She told me that they… well… that they… like me and that I needed to stop ignoring them and have a proper conversation with them both,” Hermione finished, taking a deep gulp of cold air. She looked at her friend, waiting for him to process what she’d said. 

 

Finally, Harry replied, “Hold on a minute, Hermione. Who likes you?  _ Malfoy?” _ He was confused; both of the Slytherins had gotten close to her. Drunk or not, he was also a red-blooded male so he knew what they were up to. He just couldn’t imagine either of the Pureblood wizards would want his Muggle-born friend like that — especially after years of animosity between Hermione and Malfoy. He didn’t have an opinion about Zabini; he’d never spoken to the wizard. 

 

“No, not just Draco,” she answered. “Pansy told me  _ both _ of them like me, and they have done for quite a while. I suppose this is the point where I also tell you — and please don’t repeat this to anyone — Draco and Blaise are in a relationship... with each other.”

 

_ Well, fuck!  _

 

The look of shock on his face must've been a sight as Hermione asked, “Harry, are you okay? You’ve gone very white.”

 

He gulped before asking, “So… both… both of them like you? And what? They want you to be the filling in a snake sandwich?” 

 

This was unbelievable. No wonder Hermione had been on a different planet over the last few days. With her struggling to cope anyway, this was an added complication and stress she didn’t need. He decided right there that he’d have to have a quiet word with the two Slytherins and try to find out what they were both up to.

 

“That’s disgusting, Harry,” she chided him. 

 

“Well, how did you expect me to react? You just told me that you got drunk with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Not only that, you allowed them to touch you like—”

 

“Now hold on a sec—”

 

“Please, Hermione. You expect me to believe that you wouldn’t have shoved them both away and hexed their arses the instant they got near enough to make you feel uncomfortable. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” He smirked at her.

 

“Oh, my God, Harry! No! No, I… I didn’t enjoy it,” she stammered, feeling her cheeks heat up under Harry’s playful, mocking stare. 

 

“Ha!” He exclaimed. “You stuttered. Jesus! Fuck, Hermione. Do you like them? Like that? It was only last week you passed out in front of Malfoy, scared out of your mind, and now... just over a week later… this.”

 

“Not like that, no! I barely know them. I can see Malfoy has changed but it’s hard being around him. I want to try and get to know him and Blaise... but I certainly don’t fancy them. I don’t know… maybe it has something to do with Malfoy apologising. It seems to have changed things between the two of us.” She blew out a deep breath and stood.

 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, looking up. 

 

“I’m fed up with sitting. Let’s stretch our legs,” she said, reaching for his outstretched hand to help him up. Hermione linked her arm through Harry’s, and they began to take a slow walk around part of the lake.

 

“In all seriousness though, Hermione. What are you going to do about this? I don’t understand why Pansy has told you at all, to be honest. If this is true, then  _ surely _ they should be talking to you — not her.”

 

“She said she was at her wit's end, seeing them both mope about after me. A side only Pansy gets to see apparently, but still… she said, and I quote—” Hermione used her fingers to make inverted quotation marks in front of her “—They’ve liked you for years, Granger. Now the war is finished, I decided to step in. Those boys are like my brothers, and I’m fed up of seeing both of them still so miserable.  _ You _ are what will make them happy, so here I am… interfering. They won’t be pleased with me, but anything’s better than seeing their sorry faces every day. End quote.” 

 

Hermione lowered her arms back down and slid one back through Harry’s to continue their walk.

 

“Damn, Hermione. I just can’t believe this. I can’t believe I missed the fact Malfoy and Zabini are a couple either. How did you find out about that?”

 

“Oh, that I figured out in fifth year. It wasn’t hard to notice, if you happened to be looking.” She smiled quite smugly, happy to be right about something again.

 

“And why would you be watching what Malfoy and Zabini were like together in fifth year?” He asked, grinning. He had a good idea why she’d been watching them, even if Hermione didn’t. 

 

“I… well, I…” 

 

_ Shite, _ she didn’t have an answer. Why  _ had _ she been watching Malfoy and Zabini close enough to know that they were indeed in a relationship? Something else to add to her ever-growing list of things to mull over and examine. 

 

“So?” Harry asked, stepping over a rock. 

 

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know, Harry. It’s all too much to process. I suppose I will have to say something to them if I ever want to use my common room again.”

 

“Sounds like a good idea. And Hermione?”

 

“Yes,” she responded, looking up into her best friend’s bright green eyes. 

 

Harry stopped walking and turned to face her, placing both his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently. “You know Ron and I will support you, no matter what you decide to do. We will always be here for you, Hermione. We both know that Malfoy has changed. So, whatever happens next, you can always come to us. Even if it’s to tell us you’ve shacked up with two Slytherins… or murdered the pair of them,” he finished, smiling down at his wild-haired friend as she punched him in the arm. 

 

“Ouch,” he laughed. 

 

Hermione thought about how much Harry and Ron had matured over the last year; both of them seemed so much older than their eighteen years. She hoped with all her heart that Ginny wouldn’t let her hatred of Hermione come between her and Harry either. As much as Hermione didn’t want anything to do with the redhead, she did want to see Harry happy, and she knew how much he loved Ginny.

 

“Thank you, Harry. You have no idea how much it means to me to have the support and friendship of you both.”

 

“Any time, Hermione. Shall we head back to the castle? It’s cold,  _ and _ it’s getting late,” he suggested as he shivered from the chilly breeze blowing around them. 

 

“Okay.”

 

Grinning evilly, he asked, “And  _ where _ would you like me to escort you to, Miss Granger? Gryffindor Tower or your own Heads’ rooms?”

 

“Urgh… I suppose I should go and speak to my roommates.”

 

“There’s the girl I know. Dig deep for that Gryffindor courage I know you have, and go confront those two idiots. You’ll probably feel better when you do and, if they give you any shit, come and find me.”

 

Determined to do just that, she strode purposefully towards the castle’s entrance, hell-bent on having it out with those devious snakes. As they entered, they spotted an out of breath Ron running towards them.

 

“Oh, good, I found you both,” he panted, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath.

 

“Ron, whatever is the matter?” Hermione asked worriedly as she and Harry moved towards their friend.

 

“It’s Ginny. I tried talking to her, but I swear that woman has lost the plot. She was so angry about me writing to mum about her behaviour,” Ron rushed out in such a hurry that Hermione and Harry were having a hard time making out what he was saying.

 

“Slow down, mate,” Harry suggested, pulling Ron up into a standing position and motioning Hermione to follow them as he led Ron towards a bench by the wall. They sat, Ron in the middle, Hermione and Harry on either side of him. 

 

“Start again,” Harry said a little worriedly. What the hell had happened for Ron to look so panicked?

 

The youngest Weasley boy took a few deep breaths, turning to look at Hermione and sweeping one of her loose curls behind her ear. “Mione, you’ve got to be careful. Ginny was saying this was all your fault and she’s out for revenge.”

 

“Me?” Hermione asked wide-eyed. “What exactly have I done?” 

 

“Hermione, I’m sorry,” she heard Harry say. “I asked Ron to write to Molly about Ginny’s behaviour. She obviously hasn’t taken it well.”

 

“No, mate, she didn’t,” Ron confirmed, looking at Harry. “She started screaming that everyone always takes Hermione’s side, even her own mother. She’s completely lost it this time. I tried to hold onto her and get her to calm down, but the bitch hexed me and ran off. I’ve been trying to find you both since. I didn’t know whether she would actually come after you, Mione,” he said, grabbing hold of her hand and squeezing tightly.

 

“Oh, Ron. She wouldn’t try and physically hurt me, I’m sure of it,” Hermione answered him confidently, smiling at her worried friend. “If it makes you feel better though, you can both escort me back to my room.” 

 

She stood and waited for both boys to stand as well, not missing the look between Harry and Ron that said ‘we’ll talk about this later.’

 

Once they'd reached the Heads’ room, Ron was amused to see Snape in her portrait. 

 

“Something funny, Potter, Weasley?” Their miserable, black clothed, ex-professor asked grumpily as they laughed. 

 

“Oh no, nothing, Sir,” they answered together, trying to contain their mirth. 

 

“Blimey, Hermione, you didn't tell me you had to put up with this every day,” Ron said once he'd stop laughing. 

 

“Don't be silly, Ronald,” she huffed. “He's been fine.”

 

“I still can't believe your portrait is Snape, ” Harry added. He remembered the shock of seeing his former Potions professor when he'd come here last week for the Prefects’ meeting. 

 

“Oh, seriously you two, grow up,” she chastised them.

 

“Really though, Mione,” Ron spoke as he moved closer to her, all playfulness gone from his tone. “Please be careful about Ginny. I've never seen her like this, and I'm worried.”

 

“Me too, Hermione,” Harry added. “I'll speak to her later when she comes back.” 

 

He pulled her in for a hug and spoke in a lower voice so Ron wouldn't hear. 

 

“Remember what I said. We're here if you need anything.”

 

“Thank you, Harry,” she replied, squeezing her friend tightly before letting go and accepting a hug from Ron as well. 

 

“Meet us for breakfast?” Ron casually asked as they turned to make their way back to their own common room. 

 

“Of course,” she answered brightly as they walked off, turning to Snape and telling him the password.

 

~•~•~•~

 

Before the door opened, Snape caught her by surprise.

 

“Miss Granger, I do hope you will be able to cheer your roommates up in some way. They have been looking rather glum the last few days,” he said knowingly. 

 

Hermione blushed, sure that Snape somehow knew what was going on. It wasn't possible for a portrait to use  _ Legilimens _ —  _ was it?  _

 

She shook her head;  _ no, of course it wasn't. Silly Hermione.  _

 

She mumbled an embarrassed goodnight to the portrait without answering and made her way through the entrance. In truth, she wasn't sure what she was going to say to either wizard. Hermione was hoping they'd both be in their room and she wouldn't have to see them tonight. 

 

So it unnerved her to spot the pair as she stepped into the warmth of the common room. Blaise was laying flat on his back on the couch with Malfoy lying between him and the back of the sofa, cuddled into Blaise’s side, one arm draped across his stomach. She couldn't see their faces as they had a substantial sized book rested on Blaise's chest, blocking their heads from her view. 

 

They obviously hadn't heard her come in, so she stood there for a few seconds gathering her thoughts and thinking they looked quite adorable tangled there together along the sofa. What she wouldn't give to have someone to cuddle against, to be close to and share things with. 

 

She did feel miserably alone most of the time. 

 

Sighing loudly at her melancholy, she caught the attention of the two wizards watching as Blaise lowered the book. She looked from one to the other. Blaise had a small look of surprise flit across his features as he studied her face, before his lips raised into a smile. 

 

“Hermione.” 

 

“Blaise,” she answered, moving her gaze across to Malfoy. 

 

The look on his face made her breath catch in her throat. His eyes had darkened, threatening to burn through her soul with his stare alone.

 

“Dr.. Draco,” she stammered, unnerved by his penetrating gaze. 

 

“Granger,” he whispered in a husky drawl. 

 

She tore her eyes away from his, looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath before squaring her shoulders and levelling her gaze at both of them. 

 

“I think we need to talk.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I just wanted to leave a little note to say thank you to everyone who has been following this story, and to those of you who have been kind enough to leave reviews. 
> 
> One of the main things people are saying is how much they hate Ginny, which makes me proud that I’m doing my job right. You’re supposed to hate Ginny in this fic and there’s a lot more to come from our crazy she-weasel. 
> 
> I also wanted to say thanks to my new Alpha reader, CuppaTea90. We have bonded recently over our mutual love of Lumione and Triad fics and, as always, massive thanks and love to my bestie and Beta, LaBelladoneX. 
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy this little tale I’ve written. 
> 
> ~ coyg_81

THIS LIFE

Chapter Eleven

~•~•~•~

 

Both wizards sat up, looking intently at the witch who had taken a seat on one of the armchairs to the left of the sofa. Hermione took a deep breath before facing them.

 

“Is everything okay, Hermione?” Blaise asked gently. The witch had been ignoring them for the last few days and he wanted to tread carefully so as not to scare her off.

 

“I think we need to clear the air,” Hermione answered, meeting Blaise’s dark brown eyes. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and regarding her curiously. 

 

Draco sat back next to Blaise and looked across at their little lioness. She was fidgeting her hands in her lap and chewing the inside of her mouth; she was anxious. Draco watched as she looked from one of them to the other. He swallowed at the fierce and determined look on her face before she confronted them, although he noticed a slight nervousness in her eyes. 

 

“Do you two like me?” Hermione cringed as the words came out of her mouth. That sounded so immature.

 

_ “What?” _ They answered at the same time, surprise written across both their faces. Neither wizard was expecting that.

 

“You heard me,” Hermione clarified. “So answer me…  _ truthfully.  _ Do you both like me in a way that could be more than friends?”

 

Blaise glanced at Draco through his peripheral and saw the slight nod the blond gave him. 

 

They had spoken about this a couple of days ago and decided that if this conversation came up, they would be honest with her. Draco had been whining about Hermione ignoring them both, and by Tuesday morning he had had enough of it, but Blaise had talked him down from confronting her.

 

_ “She’ll come to us when she’s good and ready, Draco. Don’t push her.” _

 

_ “She’s got until the weekend, Blaise, and then I’m speaking to her.” _

 

They had a feeling that Pansy had said something to the witch; she had been threatening to all summer, even though both wizards had asked her not to. But Pansy had definitely been acting a little shifty around them since last weekend.

 

_ The same time Hermione started ignoring us! _

 

Blaise set his whisky down and moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of Hermione. He placed both of his hands on her knees and looked into her amber eyes.

 

“Hermione,” he spoke quietly, “We will tell you the truth, but please promise me you won’t hex us or run off before we finish explaining, okay?” 

 

“I won’t, Blaise,” Hermione confirmed. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco was petrified. He had loved Hermione for more years than he cared to remember and couldn't deal with her hearing the truth, rejecting him and Blaise as anything more than friends — and that was only if she  _ could _ handle being friends with them both. Even though he had been prepared to force a conversation on her if she  _ hadn’t  _ come to them, he didn't think he could stick around for this one. He knew the time had come though; Draco wanted her to know how they both felt, he’d just let Blaise do the talking as he seemed mentally incapable of stringing two words together just then. The panic raging through him was all he could concentrate on.

 

“Okay, Hermione, here goes,” he exhaled a breath before continuing. “First off, have you spoken to Pansy in the last week?”

 

“Yes,” she answered truthfully. She noticed Draco tense at the answer.

 

“Okay. What did she have to say for herself?” 

 

“She… she told me that you both like me — more than a friendship level kind of like — and that you have for years. Both of you.” Hermione answered, trying to come across as confident, even though she felt anything but. She glanced over at Draco, he still hadn’t moved and wouldn’t look at her.

 

“And what would you think if we told you Pansy was speaking the truth?” Blaise asked nervously.

 

Hermione had thought of nothing else over the last few days. After talking with the Slytherin witch, she hadn’t been able to form an answer on what her reaction would be if Pansy  _ had _ been telling the truth. It was only a week ago that Draco had apologised and they had decided to try and be friends. Anything more than that hadn't been in her realm of thinking at all. 

 

What Harry had asked her earlier this evening was also running through her head. Why had she been watching the two Slytherins so intently from fifth year onwards? She liked to think that it had everything to do with the fact that Draco had been his worst that year, following Hermione and her friends around under the guise of the Inquisitorial Squad, trying to catch them at their D.A. meetings. 

 

It still didn't explain why she'd been thinking of them both though; Blaise hadn't been a part of Umbridge's squad, but Hermione had still worked out the truth about Blaise and Draco's relationship. She could have only done that if she'd been looking closely. It wasn't like either of them had flaunted their relationship. 

 

“I… I think I'd be shocked,” she answered him honestly. 

 

“Why?” Blaise asked. 

 

“I… I wasn't expecting this. It's all too much, Blaise,” Hermione whispered, looking down at his hands on her knees. “I didn't know you both liked girls... and especially me.”

 

“We don't.” 

 

Hermione whipped her head round to look at Draco, shocked that he had spoken at last, and confused by his answer. 

 

“We don't  _ like _ girls,” Draco explained quietly, looking up and catching her eye.  “We just like  _ you _ , Granger.” 

 

“But… I don't understand,” she replied quietly to the blond wizard. “I—”

 

“You what, Granger? You can't believe that we both have feelings for you?” Draco asked her with his trademark Malfoy sneer etched across his face, standing abruptly and making his way to the exit. 

 

“Draco, where are you going?” Blaise asked, concerned for his boyfriend. 

 

Draco paused with his hand on the doorknob; he turned back to both of them, noticing their worried glances. 

 

“I can't do this, Blaise. I… I can't be here for this,” he said, wrenching the door open and disappearing through it. 

 

Blaise and Hermione looked at each other, both shocked at Draco's reaction. 

 

“Why did he leave, Blaise?” Hermione asked, almost in tears. 

 

Her emotions were roiling. She hadn't had enough time to think about all of this, but she had to confront them over her talk with Pansy. The atmosphere in their common room the last few days had been tense, and Hermione knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn't rest until she had some clear answers. Her chat earlier with Harry had given her the confidence boost she needed to talk to them. The fact that these two wizards wanted to be with her was still rather unorthodox thinking in the wizarding world — as it was in the Muggle one — even though it was more recognised among wizards and witches. Three-way marriages had been legal for years in the magical community — that part she wasn't even really thinking about. 

 

It was the fact that Draco Malfoy wanted a relationship with her, and how much he had changed, nevermind the fact that he wanted to share her with his lover and best friend, Blaise Zabini. 

 

Hermione had also been surprised by Harry's reaction when she'd told him. She wasn't expecting him to make a joke about it and then tell her that he and Ron would support any decision she made regarding the two Slytherins; she loved her friends for their loyalty.

 

“He would kill me for telling you this, Hermione,” Blaise said softly, pulling her attention back to him. He ran a hand down his face before placing it back on Hermione's knee. “He's scared.”

 

“Scared? Of what?” Hermione asked the tense wizard in front of her. 

 

“Rejection,” he whispered. 

 

“Rejection? From whom?”

 

“You know, for someone who's supposed to be the smartest witch of our generation, you can be very blinkered sometimes,” Blaise told her in a tone he hoped didn’t come across as mocking. 

 

“Me?” Hermione asked, a little bewildered. 

 

“Yes, you, Granger.”

 

Hermione moved his hands from her knees, stood up, and started pacing in front of the fireplace as Blaise looked over his shoulder at her. He could tell her mind was trying to take in what they'd said and, after a few minutes of trying to wear the rug out, she turned to her roommate. 

 

“I think you need to start from the beginning, Blaise,” she said, making her way over to the sofa and falling onto it in a most unladylike fashion. She sighed deeply before reaching forward for the whisky bottle that was sitting on the table and taking a swig straight from the mouth. She held the bottle toward Blaise who took it and drank as well. 

 

“The beginning, you say?” Blaise asked quietly, not sure where to start.

 

Hermione nodded and swallowed deeply. She was internally psyching herself up to hear this without having one of her episodes in front of him. 

 

“The day we started Hogwarts — on the train to be precise — was the first time Draco noticed you,” Blaise started. “You were all haughty, with your nose stuck in the air demanding we tell you if we'd seen Longbottom's toad.” He smiled as recalled the memory. 

 

“I remember that,” she answered wistfully, thinking back to that day. She supposed she was  _ haughty _ back then. She'd had a point to prove to everyone that Muggle-borns were just as good as half-bloods and pure-bloods. When Hermione had found out about her status as a witch, she had done as much research as possible and insisted McGonagall chaperone her and her parents to Diagon Alley as soon as possible. She wanted to buy as many books as she could to give her the head start she thought she'd needed. By the time she stepped onto that train for the first time, Hermione knew she would have her work cut out for her to be welcomed and accepted in the wizarding world, and just how far behind everyone else she was — hence the reason for her holier-than-thou attitude. It was her defence mechanism. 

 

“I  _ was _ rather haughty,” Hermione giggled. 

 

“You certainly were. You rubbed people up the wrong way from day one… except for Draco.” Blaise tacked on at the end. 

 

Hermione looked at him with furrowed brows, “Really?” 

 

“Yes, really,” 

 

Hermione blew a curl away from her face and sat back on the sofa. 

 

“He thought you were fearsome, the way you'd torn through our carriage like a hurricane. He was in such a good mood that day. He'd told me how excited he was to be starting Hogwarts and to finally be free of his father for a few months.” Blaise smiled again at the memories he was recalling. “Do you know why Draco wished you dead and called you  _ Mudblood _ in second year?” 

 

“N-no?” Hermione stammered. 

 

“That first summer we went home, I was spending a few days at Malfoy Manor, and all Draco could talk about was you. Once he found out about you being Muggle-born, and then sorted into Gryffindor, he knew he wouldn't be able to have a friendship with you. Especially after you befriended Potter and Weasley a few weeks later.  _ Merlin  _ was he pissed about that. Anyway...” 

 

Blaise waved a hand dismissively for going off topic.

 

“That didn't stop him talking about you to me every chance he got.  _ Lucius... _ ” He hissed the Malfoy patriarch’s name, “he was listening outside the door one day as Draco was telling me that he couldn't believe what his father had told him about Muggle-borns being inferior when you were already so accomplished at our age. He studied so hard that first year trying to get better grades than you. It didn't work — as you know.” He winked, making Hermione blush. “I won't go into details, Hermione, but I heard the sound of Draco's screams as his father beat him and  _ demanded _ that when he see you again he was to start calling you a Mudblood and, if he didn't best you in class the following year, he could look forward to some time in the dungeons the following summer.”

 

_ “What?” _ Hermione was on the verge of tears from what she was hearing. She'd never thought about Draco's home life back then. She'd just seen him as the prejudiced, spoilt git he'd been. 

 

She found herself desperately upset at the realisation of what he'd been through. 

 

“Dear old Lucius would lock Draco in the dungeons beneath the Manor if he ever defied him. Sometimes he’d be shut down there for days,” Blaise explained, clearing his throat because the memories were also upsetting him. 

 

“Blaise,” Hermione whispered, reaching to take one of his hands between both of hers. He lifted his head at her touch, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

 

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was like that. To be honest, I never gave Draco's homelife a thought. He was such a—”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Blaise interrupted, “and that's just a snippet, believe me. It was a whole lot worse than that the older he got, but maybe you can start to see why he is the way he is — or  _ was _ .”

 

“I suppose so,” Hermione acquiesced. She was certainly being shown a different side to Draco right now

 

“Draco always had a soft spot for you, Hermione, even though it must have been truly horrible for you having him call you such vile names and acting in such a horrid way. I can assure you that he never meant any of it. In a way — and I know this is going to sound all kinds of fucked up — I think he was secretly pleased you always retaliated against his taunts because it kept him within your radar — even if it was for nefarious reasons. In Draco's head, negative attention was better than no attention.”

 

“Wow, Blaise… just… wow, really. I don't even know what to say. That really is fucked up.” Hermione never swore aloud if she could help it but having listened to Blaise’s explanations, the expletive left her mouth subconsciously. She was shocked at herself, but what was she supposed to make of all he had just said? 

 

“I just wanted you to know that this isn't a game to us. Pansy has interfered when we told her not to, but the fact is we  _ do _ both like you and yes, I mean in a way that's more than friends,” he clarified, recalling her earlier question. “I'll answer any questions you have, which I'm sure are many.” 

 

Hermione sat with her head rested against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling lost in thought. 

 

She hadn't realised how bad Draco's upbringing had been. The punishments from his father had shocked her, and she wondered what role his mother — the regal Narcissa Malfoy — had played during Draco's childhood. She obviously loved her son very much, or she wouldn't have lied to Voldemort about Harry. 

 

Hermione certainly had a lot of questions. She turned to look at her roommate with narrowed eyes, wanting to know what his part was. 

 

“So what about you, Blaise? What's your side of the story here?”

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco had left through the Heads’ portrait intent on grabbing the bottle of firewhisky he had stashed in his room in the Slytherin dungeons, and going to sit out by the Quidditch pitch for some fresh air and to think. 

 

Snape had called him back as he began stomping away. 

 

“What?” Draco hissed at his godfather in the portrait. 

 

“Don't take that tone with me,” Snape drawled out in his own way that was so familiar to Draco, having heard him use it many times in the classroom — normally aimed at Potter. 

 

Sighing loudly, the blond asked again what Snape wanted. He wasn't in the mood for one of his former professor’s lectures right now. He just wanted to get wasted, and think about how to beat Potter this season for the Quidditch Cup. He couldn’t bear the thought of Blaise divulging intimate details about his life to Hermione, only to have her turn them down anyway. 

 

There was no fucking way she would be so overcome with pity for his traumatic childhood that she'd instantly jump into a relationship with him and Blaise. 

 

Hell, he'd take just friends for now despite his earlier thoughts; he needed her in his life. It didn't matter what Blaise told Hermione; the fact was she didn't know how deeply it had hurt Draco to throw insults and see her upset over something he had said or done to her. All she knew was Draco, the bully. He had years of regret to make up for and knew Hermione wouldn't forgive him in the space of a week. 

 

He just wanted her to give him a chance.

 

“You need to write to your mother, Draco. She is worried about you,” Snape interrupted his thoughts. 

 

“You're visiting with my mother?” 

 

Draco was surprised. He knew Snape and his mother had been close — Narcissa was proficient in potions and alchemy, so they always had a lot to discuss. It used to annoy his father to no end to find the two of them always whispering together over cups of tea every time Snape would visit the Manor. 

 

He was also aware his mother had installed a frame in her prized sun room for Snape to visit whenever he wanted in the months following the war, but he didn't think his ex-professor was doing so. 

 

“Of course I do, Draco. You know your mother and I are close, and she asked me to keep an eye on you this year,” Snape declared. 

 

_ “She what?” _ He growled. 

 

“You know your mother — always worrying. She also told me of the situation with Mr Zabini and Miss Granger.”

 

“FUCK!” Draco shouted, grabbing his hair in both hands and kicking the wall. “She had no fucking right.” 

 

“Calm down this instant,” Snape hissed, folding his arms across his chest, his black robes billowing around him. “What do you think I'm going to do? March in there and demand she marry you both immediately? Don't be an idiot, Draco.” 

 

“Well, no… of course not,” Draco snapped back. 

 

“No. Very well then, if I may speak without an interruption now?” Snape asked angrily. 

 

Draco, who had moved his arms down to his sides and had both fists clenched, stared hard at the portrait. It wouldn't do well to lose it now and alert Blaise and Hermione to his continued and distressed presence right outside the door. 

 

“I suppose you're reporting everything you hear back to Mother?” He accused. “Why can't you keep your noses out of my business?”

 

“Your mother just worries, Draco. At least this way I can placate her with some news. You haven't written to her since your first night back, when you told her that Miss Granger had fainted in fright… just by seeing you.” Snape paused to give Draco a second to process this. 

 

“She has been so worried, I stopped by to assure her that everything was okay. Think about it, Draco. If I  _ did not _ speak to her, she would be up here in a flash and all set to interfere.”

 

Draco released a breath, his shoulders slumping

slightly. 

 

“You're right, of course, Professor,” he agreed, his usual Malfoy posture back in place. “I've been remiss in replying to her letters. I've... had... other things on my mind. I’ll write to her first thing in the morning.” 

 

Despite everything, he didn't mean to make his mother worry. 

 

“Good.” Snape nodded. “Now, one more thing. Do you think it's wise for you and Mr Zabini to try and pursue Miss Granger at this time?” 

 

His tone was more gentle. Snape cared a lot for his godson and would do everything he could to see him succeed. If a rather unorthodox three-way relationship with Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger was what Draco wanted, then he — Severus Snape — would do all he could to help. But he thought  _ now _ wasn't the right time to add any pressure to the young Gryffindor. If what McGonagall had told him about Hermione's mental well-being was true, then he didn't want his godson, and his boyfriend, screwing up their chances by harassing her. 

 

Draco could read Snape well; the man had taught him Legilimency and Occlumency, for Merlin's sake. He knew his godfather cared about him and didn't want him to mess everything up... like he usually did. 

 

“Believe me, Professor, if it was down to me I would have kept the truth from her for a while yet, but the delightful Pansy got in our way,” he sneered. 

 

He and Pansy were going to have a little chat very soon. 

 

“I see. Is that why  _ you're _ running, and Mr Zabini is calming whatever situation this is?”  

 

“That's right. I'm going for a walk, and I'd rather not discuss this anymore,” Draco announced as he started to back away. 

 

Knowing he wouldn't get anything else from his young godson, Snape told Draco not to forget to write to his mother first thing. 

 

“I will, Professor… and… thanks,” Draco replied, genuinely meaning it. It did help to have him act as a go-between for him and his mother. 

 

But all he wanted to do right now though was grab the whisky and be on his way. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco made it to the dungeons to retrieve his much-needed alcohol, and out the front door, without being spotted by Filch or that disgusting cat of his. 

 

He twisted the cap off his firewhisky and threw it to the floor.  _ No point in keeping that, _ he thought as he swigged like a commoner straight from the bottle,  _ I'll be finishing the whole thing. _

 

The plan was to get so drunk that he passed out in a blur, with no thoughts on his mind whatsoever. As he drank with his head tilted back, he stumbled down the small hill in front of the Quidditch pitch, and heard someone laugh as he tried to regain his balance without spilling his drink. 

 

Once Draco had righted himself, he peered through the darkness to see who had laughed. He made a drunken grab for his wand and cast a dull  _ Lumos _ .

 

Harry _ fucking saviour of the fucking world, bane of Draco's fucking existence  _ Potter stood before him, grinning like a drunken twat. His hair was unmentionable, and his glasses were skewed across his face. Draco noticed the redness in his cheeks and the smell of alcohol emanating from him. He was pissed. While Draco was just beginning to feel the effect of the whisky he had drunk on his way down to the pitch, the  _ boy who refused to die _ was completely inebriated. 

 

“Potter,” Draco drawled, with his Malfoy sneer plastered across his aristocratic features. 

 

“Malfoy,” Harry spat back. 

 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” 

 

“Could ask you the same thing, ferret. Aren't you supposed to be talking with your boyfriend and my best friend right now?” Harry slurred, swaying slightly. 

 

“And what the fuck do you know about it, scarhead?” 

 

“More than you think, Malfoy,” Harry answered, following as Draco headed towards the entrance to the pitch. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

THIS LIFE

Chapter Twelve

~•~•~•~

 

_ Recap: _

 

_ She hadn't realised how bad Draco's upbringing had been. The punishments from his father had shocked her, and she wondered what role his mother — the regal Narcissa Malfoy — had played during Draco's childhood. She obviously loved her son very much, or she wouldn't have lied to Voldemort about Harry.  _

 

_ Hermione certainly had a lot of questions. She turned to look at her roommate with narrowed eyes, wanting to know what his part was.  _

 

_ “So what about you, Blaise? What's your side of the story here?” _

 

~•~•~•~

 

Blaise took a deep breath before continuing his talk with Hermione. He’d already divulged secrets about Draco, now it was his turn and he was determined to be honest with her. 

 

“As you know, Hermione, Draco and I are always together, so nothing escapes my attention where he's concerned. I notice the subtle differences in his moods,” Blaise began explaining but Hermione interrupted him.

 

“I thought we were going to talk about you Blaise, not Draco.”

 

“I'm starting at the beginning and, therefore, setting the scene,” Blaise replied with a flourish, winking at her. 

 

Hermione couldn't help but giggle. _ Such a drama queen.  _

 

“Whatever you say, Blaise,” she smiled. 

 

“Yes, as I  _ was _ saying… I notice the small changes in his moods. First year he talked about you nonstop. He would gaze at you all the time in the Great Hall and classes — sly little glances he didn't think anyone could see. If we were already sitting at our table for mealtime, and you hadn't got there yet, I knew he was tense. I'd watch him visibly relax when he saw you enter. It was only slight, but I noticed.” He paused and drank for a second so she could process what he'd said. “Second year it seemed like he had gotten over it, because  _ that's _ when he really started being a nasty little arsehole.”

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Blaise's description of Draco back then. He wasn't wrong; she was just surprised he'd been so honest. 

 

“Come on, Hermione,” Blaise declared, “You know he was awful that year. I think Lucius punished him so hard over that summer that he blamed you a little—”

 

_ “Me?”  _ She interrupted again. How could she have been the reason why Draco was so horrid to her at that time? She felt her stomach plummet at the realisation that he had blamed her for his punishments, and it made her feel ten times worse — for him  _ and _ her. 

 

“Yes,  _ you _ . You got inside his head on day one, and you never left,” Blaise explained, missing the worried look on her face. “We were eleven, don't forget. That's a lot to deal with at that age — an abusive father, a new school, a girl he had feelings for but couldn't understand what they were, let alone act on it because of your blood status and house.” Blaise closed his eyes, the memories flooding back. “So he took it out on you. I caught him crying the first time he called you that...  _ word _ . He didn't think anyone was in our room, but I was, and I heard him. That made me think that he did like you more than he was letting on, and so I-I started to… eh... watch you.” He mumbled the last part, looking down at his glass. 

 

“Blaise, wait… slow down,” Hermione exclaimed fearfully, raising her hands to stop him continuing. This was all too much to comprehend. She felt that familiar rush of warmth spread from her head downward — like a hot flush — her anxiety rising and making her chest tighten. Panic was setting in, making it hard for her to breathe. 

 

Hermione needed some fresh air and needed it  _ now _ . The effect of the alcohol wasn't helping, nevermind what she was actually hearing; she was losing control. 

 

“Oh, God,” she cried out, jumping up from the sofa and making her way over to the small window. She opened it as wide as it would go, letting the cold night air hit her face. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to control her wildly racing heart, and steadied herself by pressing both hands against the sides of the window frame, leaning out slightly. Squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks, she felt a strong pair of arms snake around her waist and steady her further. 

 

“Hermione, what the hell? Are you okay?” Blaise breathed out worriedly, pulling her back a little. Hermione went willingly as he continued to guide her further back into the room. He turned her in his arms, resting her head into the crook of his neck, listening to the small gasping noises she was making, followed by the sounds of crying. Her small shoulders shook as she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and clung to him. He tightened his hold, sliding one arm around her waist and moving the other to run his fingers through her hair and down the side of her face, wiping away the tears from her cheek. 

 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, trying to comfort her as gently as possible, even though he was just as panicked, his heart thundering at seeing her like that. Hermione didn’t answer him; she just continued to tremble in his hold. 

 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, with Blaise murmuring that she was okay as he encouraged her to take deep breaths in order to calm down. He continued to stroke his fingers through her hair until he felt her relax and her breathing start to even out.

 

When he sure her panic attack was passing, he moved his hand down to behind Hermione’s knees and lifted her bridal style, making his way over to her room.

 

“Blaise,” she croaked in surprise, “what are you doing?”

 

“I’m going to put you to bed, Hermione,” he answered quietly, noticing how little she weighed in his arms. Her door was already ajar, so he kicked it open and placed her down on the end of the bed. He knelt down and began to take her shoes off. 

 

“Blaise—”

 

“Hermione,” Blaise sighed. “Trust me, please. I’m just taking care of you and making sure you’re alright.”

 

He stood once he’d finished with her shoes, leaning forward to loosen and remove her tie before offering her his hand.

 

“Come,” he ordered, “you need rest.”

 

Hermione took his hand, and he gently guided her around to the side of the bed, pulling back the duvet and helping her settle in as he arranged the covers, tucking her in like a child. 

 

“How are you feeling now?” He asked carefully, not wanting a repeat of what had just happened; she had really scared him earlier. That was the second time she had had a panic attack — or the start of one, at least.

 

“I’m fine,” Hermione whispered, feeling a little embarrassed. 

 

They stayed silent for a few minutes — Hermione under the covers staring at the old mirror on the far wall, Blaise sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her hand like a protective parent.

 

“Blaise?” She questioned, turning her head to him.

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Will you stay with me for a while?” 

 

She asked so innocently with those big doe eyes, Blaise knew he couldn’t refuse her and, if he was honest, he didn’t want to leave her alone. He walked around to the other side of the bed without answering, feeling her eyes follow him.  He removed his shoes and lay down next to her, on top of the duvet, and stared at the ceiling. 

 

It was silent in the darkened room, the only light came from the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains as they both gathered their thoughts and calmed down. 

 

“Hermione?” Blaise whispered, not wanting to startle her. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“You scared me back there. Explain to me what happened.” He was feeling quite shaken having seen Hermione like that. Draco had told him what it was like when she'd fainted in front of him, and when she'd had a nightmare previously. He said he'd felt helpless — like he was standing in that drawing room all over again. It still hadn't prepared Blaise for seeing it first hand, however. 

 

After everything she had already fought for, to be left with these mental scars must be hard to live with. Blaise reminded himself that the war only ended a few months earlier and that she just needed time. He hoped he and Draco would be around to try and help her through it. And vice-versa, as Blaise knew his boyfriend was carrying around some seriously emotional baggage concerning the war as well. He turned to look at Hermione. She had her hands under the pillow, looking back at him thoughtfully, obviously deciding how to explain her panic attacks to him. 

 

“I can't really describe it,” she said, speaking quietly. 

 

Blaise gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned before continuing. 

 

“I suppose you could say that I get overwhelmed. It's like an overload of thoughts and feelings, and my brain doesn't know how to cope with it all at once. It feels like a pressure cooker inside my head, you know? And then I start losing my breath, my chest tightens, and it's like the room is closing in on me and I can't breathe and I… I… can't—” she cried out, rolling onto her back and clutching at her shirt, trying to get it away from her body. Just talking about the panic was making her experience it again. 

 

“Shit, Hermione,” Blaise quickly reached for her and managed to secure her in his arms. They were in the same position as earlier, only this time they were lying down. He had her tucked into his side with one arm around her back and the other cupping the side of her face as he tried to calm her.

 

“Shh, Hermione. Calm, deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay, I've got you, you're safe,” he repeated over and over until she relaxed a little and her breathing evened out. “I'm so sorry,  _ Dolcezza _ . I didn't mean to upset you.” He felt beside himself with guilt. If he'd left it alone, if he hadn’t asked, she would have been alright. But he wanted to understand what it was like for her, so he and Draco could help in the future if it happened again. His intention was good, his timing was shit.

 

“It's not your fault, Blaise,” Hermione sighed as she moved out of his warm embrace and back to her side of the bed. He automatically tucked the covers around her, making sure she was settled once more. 

 

“But that's what it's like sometimes, you see — just talking about it can set me off. Earlier I felt overwhelmed with everything you were telling me, and I couldn't cope with… with it all any more. The last few days have felt so bloody confusing and stressful to me,” Hermione admitted shyly. She didn't like to admit any weakness but Blaise had been so kind and compassionate towards her, she felt comfortable talking about it with him. 

 

“I understand that. It’s been a lot for you to hear,” he told her tenderly. 

 

“It has, but I think this episode had more to do with hearing how Draco was treated. The fact that he blamed me was hard to hear. I understand… of course. I understand  _ why _ he blamed me, but it’s left me feeling guilty. Like it’s somehow my fault, although I had no idea.” 

 

His expression was one of sadness and regret. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

 

“No, I think you should have, and I’m glad you did. I told you I wanted to hear it all, even if it is hard to listen to some of it.”

 

“Okay, then. As long as you’re alright,” he said wearily, suddenly overcome with tiredness. The adrenaline that had pumped through his body when Hermione had been in distress was now waning, leaving him feeling exhausted and strung out.

 

“I am, and thank you.”

 

“What are you thanking me for?”

 

“For looking after me, of course. I don’t normally let anyone get that close to me when that happens. I don’t like to feel closed in, like I’m trapped,” she explained. “But it helped this time, so thank you for that, and for putting me to bed, and now for sitting here listening to me prattle on.”

 

“What else would I have done?” He asked, slightly confused. He wouldn’t have just  _ left _ her in that state.

 

“Well, to be honest, before coming back here, I’d have thought you would have laughed and just walked away,” Hermione admitted.

 

It was silent for a couple of minutes before he answered her. “Hermione, even before you found out how we both truly felt, and you thought I was only the vain, arrogant prick who followed Draco around and looked down on Muggle-borns, I would  _ never _ have left you in that state. That’s not who I am; that’s not how I was brought up.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Blaise, but how was I supposed to know that? In seven years we’ve never spoken. Before we came back here, I just assumed you were like every other Slytherin in our year. Well, except maybe Nott. He never did strike me as a typical Slytherin.”

 

“Maybe we could both stop assuming things and try to see each other for who we are now,” Blaise put to her, slightly frustrated. 

 

“Yes, you’re right. That was very judgmental of me. I apologise, Blaise,” she replied guiltily. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. If I were you, I’d probably think the same,” he assured her. “By the way, you’re very perceptive, Hermione. That dirty old hat wanted to place Theo in Ravenclaw; he’s always been the quiet, studious one but he begged it to put him in Slytherin.”

 

“Why? Surely he would have been happier in a house he actually belonged in.”

 

“Not for Theo. You see, whatever you’ve already heard about Lucius, or will hear about him in the future, it’s nothing compared to Theo’s father. If Theo had been sorted into Ravenclaw, there would’ve been hell to pay.”

 

“Is there one decent father amongst your lot, Blaise? I mean, really? Lucius, Theo’s father, Pansy’s, Goyle’s — the list goes on and on,” Hermione said sadly. 

 

“My own father was… amazing,” Blaise whispered so quietly, Hermione almost missed it.

 

“Really?” she asked hopefully. She would like to think that at least  _ one _ of her Slytherin peers had had a normal childhood.

 

“Yes, really. My mother and father loved each other very much. They married for love, not for wealth and position, which was mostly unheard of back then. My mother’s side is Italian, and my father was English. He was in Milan on business when he met her. Anyway, long story short, Father relocated to Italy, they married and had me.”

 

“Are they still in Italy?” She asked innocently, swallowing when she saw his eyes darken and take on a haunted look.

 

“No, they’re not, unfortunately. My father passed away when I was seven and Mother moved us to England.”

 

“Oh, Blaise, I’m so sorry,” Hermione choked. Nearly everyone she knew had lost a parent or loved one. “We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

 

“It’s fine, honestly. I can talk about it now; it was a long time ago.”

 

“If you’re sure.”

 

This was a difficult subject; she didn’t know Blaise well enough to gauge how he was going to react. Talking to Pansy about their own parents had been upsetting, so she knew how Blaise felt.

 

“I’m sure,  _ Cara _ .” Blaise flashed her a knowing glance. The last time he’d used that name was last Friday when they’d been drunk, and then things had gotten slightly out of hand. He had called her  _ Dolcezza _ earlier and she hadn’t picked up on it so far, or maybe she was just ignoring it.

 

“Okay.” 

 

“So, my mother and Narcissa were friends through Hogwarts but remained in contact once they’d left and Mother had moved back to Italy. We would visit Malfoy Manor often and she would visit our villa with Draco. After Father passed, Mother married again... five more times.”

 

“FIVE?” Hermione exclaimed loudly.

 

“Yes, five,” Blaise confirmed. “She was always trying to find someone to replace my father, but none of them could ever live up to him. I finally intervened when she kicked out husband number six, three years ago. I told her she couldn’t go on like this, that she needed to grieve properly and be by herself. She agreed and even though it was hard, she’s so much better now, and still single.” 

 

Hermione grinned at his laughter. “So, where is she now?”

 

“She’s living at Malfoy Manor,” Blaise smiled at the look on Hermione’s face at this bit of news. “During the last year of the war, she went back to Italy. Once everything had calmed down, and Narcissa was allowed home, she invited Mother and me to come and live with her and Draco. My mother was lonely and, with Lucius in Azkaban, Narcissa knew she would be too once Draco returned to Hogwarts.” 

 

Hermione nodded her head. “That makes sense.”

 

“So now they spend their days drinking wine, gossiping, and trying to find ways of interfering in their sons’ lives,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at the antics his mother and Narcissa got up to.

 

Hermione laughed at the image that formed in her mind from hearing that. She couldn’t quite imagine the poised and regal Narcissa Malfoy sloshed on wine and bitching with her friend. That’s what sixteen-year-old Muggle girls did, not perfect, pure-blooded witches.

 

“I know it’s hard to imagine but, trust me, those two are most entertaining at times. Maybe you’ll see for yourself one day,” he added tentatively.

 

“Maybe,” she whispered shyly.

 

Hearing that gave Blaise hope. Just that one little word…  _ maybe _ . That  _ maybe _ could mean everything one day.

 

It was silent in the room after that, with both of them contemplating what had been discussed. The only noise was their joint breathing. 

 

“So, you started watching me?” Hermione suddenly announced, making Blaise jump at the sound of her voice. He had been so lost in thought, wondering what that  _ maybe _ had meant. “What did you mean by that?”

 

“What?” he asked, confused at the change in conversation.

 

“You said you'd noticed that Draco kept looking at me and giving me too much attention, so you started watching me,” Hermione reminded him of what they had been speaking about before her panic attack. 

 

“I just wanted to see what it was that Draco saw when I caught him looking at you,” he told her, remembering what they'd been discussing before her panic attack. 

 

“And what did you see?” She asked shyly, turning her gaze away from his.  

 

“Are you sure you want to carry on with this conversation, Hermione?” He didn't want to upset her; he never wanted to see her suffer like that again. 

 

“Yes,” she whispered. She felt better now she was lying down in the comfort of her bed, warm and safe. 

 

“Okay, then. Just... hold on for just a second. I'll be back.” Blaise hopped off the bed and made his way back into the living room, returning moments later with a glass of water, which he placed on Hermione’s bedside table. He then walked around to the other side of the bed with the firewhisky he’d been drinking before abandoning it to help her. He pointed his wand towards the fireplace whispering  _ Incendio _ , and watching the flames roar to life. He knocked back the rest of the whisky, before lying back down on the bed and turning on his side to face Hermione. 

 

The soft light from the fire gave her face a warm glow and Blaise reached out to move her hair back over one shoulder. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met.

 

“At first I didn't get it,” he said quietly. “You annoyed me in class — Miss  _ I know all the answers _ . Sometimes I wanted to throw a Tickling Hex at you when you raised your hand, bouncing up and down in your seat.” 

 

A small laugh escaped him as she pulled her face back from his hold and looked at him with narrowed eyes, a little offended by what he'd said.  

 

“Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Draco always stopped me,” he smirked. “I never said anything to him about the way he watched you, or my thoughts on it. But everything changed for me during third year, after you broke his nose.”

 

“Did I really break his nose?” She asked proudly, remembering when she’d punched Draco, and how good it had felt at the time. Hermione reached behind her for the water Blaise had thoughtfully brought in. 

 

“Indeed you did. When he ran in with Crabbe and Nott, he swore them to secrecy, and  _ then _ came to find me in the library. I took one look at his bloodied face and marched him off to Pomfrey.” He chuckled as he remembered how much Draco had whined at having to stay in the infirmary overnight. 

 

“Wow! I bet he wasn't happy about that. I… I can't believe I broke his nose. I didn't even... hit him that hard,” she choked out between fits of laughter, trying not to drop the glass in her hand. 

 

Once she’d stopped laughing, Hermione took a deep breath and looked over at Blaise. He was smiling, his eyes lighting up with her mirth. She watched those eyes darken the longer she stared at him. 

 

“What?” She whispered, nervous of the way he was looking at her so intently — like he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right here. The atmosphere suddenly changed; it felt like electricity in the air as she sucked in a sharp breath. 

 

“I like hearing you laugh, Hermione,” he said, breaking the tension that had built up around them. “I don't think I've actually heard you laugh like that before.”  

 

“Oh.” Hermione couldn't think of anything else to say. She placed her glass back down and got comfy under her duvet once more. 

 

Blaise sighed. “Do you know what happened after that incident?” He whispered, staring into her wide amber eyes, not giving her the chance to respond to his confession about her laughing. He felt slightly embarrassed at having admitted that. 

 

“No, tell me?”  

 

“Well, I thought Draco would hate you for doing that to him, but I was wrong. If it was possible, he admired you even more—”

 

“ _ Oh, please _ ,” Hermione cut in, rolling her eyes. “He was more vile than ever after that.” 

 

“He was. But it was always the same routine with him; he’d insult you, watch your reaction, feel bad about it, and either let that out by getting angry or upset. I’d find him either silent and withdrawn somewhere, crying quietly in his bed, or smashing something up. In private he would talk about you a lot. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As for me… well, I couldn't believe you had the nerve to hit him, but I actually thought he deserved it to fair.” Blaise winked, causing her to blush. 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Yes, really. It made me see you in a different light. You could say that was my... turning point.” Blaise admitted. Unlike Draco, he wasn't as embarrassed when talking about emotions. “You are so innocent, yet so fierce, and you're so strong, Hermione. I started to see that.”

 

“I don't feel strong right now.”

 

“You will,  _ Dolcezza _ . It'll come back, I promise. It's there under the surface. You just need time.” He reached over to brush a stray curl from her face. “You are a true Gryffindor lioness.”

 

He noticed how tired she looked; Hermione really needed to start taking better care of herself. Blaise had heard about the mind doctors in the Muggle world who helped patients cope with any… mental or emotional problems. He wondered if there was anything like that in the wizarding world that may be able to help her. He'd have to speak to Draco about it. 

 

“So,” he said, turning her attention back to him. “It was the Yule Ball in fourth year that things  _ really _ changed for me.” 

 

Hermione's face flushed as she recalled the moment he had whispered in her ear, leaving her feeling hot and worked up —  _ especially _ when he had brushed his lips against her skin. She’d forgotten how to breathe.

 

“You remember then?” He asked with a devilish smirk on his face, noticing the redness in her cheeks.

 

She looked at him with wide eyes and nodded so slightly, he almost missed it. 

 

“Draco was pissed as hell when you walked in on Krum’s arm.” 

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows in disbelief. 

 

“If it hadn't been for me, either Draco or Krum would probably have spent the night in the hospital wing. Come to think of it, maybe both of them.”

 

“What? Why? What happened?” She squeaked out in shock. 

 

“Well, Draco was still trying to convince me that he didn't have feelings for you, but he  _ lost it _ when he saw you walk in with Krum, and I mean lost it. He was overcome with possessiveness and jealousy, you’ve no idea!” Hermione gasped, completely at a loss for words. “I held him back and told him to calm down — which he did for about a second before he pulled away and skulked about in the courtyard outside for a couple of hours.”

 

“Why didn't you go after him?” She inquired, not sure what to make of Blaise’s story. 

 

“Trust me, Hermione, when Draco is in  _ that _ mood, it's best to leave him be for a while.” 

 

“Duly noted.” 

 

“I left him alone and stayed at the ball. I had never seen you look more beautiful,” he told her honestly, remembering the blue dress she had worn and the way her hair had been styled in an elegant updo, exposing her long neck. “When you danced with Krum, I thought you looked exquisite floating around the dance floor.” 

 

She scoffed. Compliments were rare for Hermione, considering who her emotionally stunted best friends were. 

 

“Don't believe me? Ask anyone who was there what they thought of your transformation that night. It's all we could talk about in the days that followed, I swear to you. It's not our fault you didn't listen to school gossip and never heard the boys talking about you.” Blaise winked again, watching the blush creep up her neck and spread across her face. 

 

“I do find that that hard to believe actually; it seems everyone forgot about it when they realised the change wasn't permanent and I’d gone back to Grungy Granger, the Boring Bookworm straight after.” 

 

Blaise threw back his head and laughed. “I’d say... interesting. I definitely started to feel something more for you after that night. Anyway, I'd decided to try to find Draco, and you were standing there all alone waiting for Krum to come back from wherever he went, and... I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see if you smelt as good as you looked,” he admitted, not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable at what he'd just said. 

 

“And?” She whispered nervously, her heart racing. 

 

“Vanilla and honey,” Blaise declared, reaching forward and grabbing one of her curls between his fingers. He brought it to his nose and inhaled. “You use a honey shampoo on your hair and your skin smells and tastes—” he drawled in a husky voice, remembering placing his lips on her that night “—like sweet vanilla.” He dropped the curl and watched it bounce back into place. 

 

Merlin, he had a way of talking that made her skin prickle and her stomach flutter.

 

Blaise sighed deeply before continuing. “I don't have much more to tell you, Hermione. Draco and I never spoke of our feelings towards you until the end of fifth year, and I'd rather you speak to  _ him _ if you want to know anymore from then on. I wouldn't feel comfortable divulging certain parts without him present.” He really needed his boyfriend next to him for this. They had to talk to her about sixth year and everything that followed after. It wouldn’t be easy, but Hermione and Draco especially needed to talk about it or it would always be there, festering away like a disease. 

 

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and thought about what he'd said for a few minutes. 

 

“What about now, Blaise? What happens next?” She questioned, still confused, still not knowing where she stood. 

 

Blaise grabbed her small hand, his slender fingers wrapping around hers as he stared at her. 

 

“The truth is, Hermione, Draco and I are partners, best friends, lovers... whatever you want to call us. We both care deeply for you, and we would very much like to have you join us in this relationship. We're not saying you have to decide anything now — or ever. We wouldn't even have told you yet if Pansy hadn't interfered. We were happy to remain friends and wear you down by having you walk in on us in compromising situations.” He smirked, remembering her face when she’d walked in on Draco sucking him off in the shower. That had been the rather ingenious idea of his brilliant and gorgeous boyfriend — to cast a  _ Silencio _ but leave the door unlocked, knowing Hermione would think the bathroom was empty. 

 

“Oh,  _ ha ha _ , very funny.” She glared before sticking her tongue out at him and then laughing. 

 

“So, you and Draco spoke about this in fifth year? Are you at least going to tell me what was said?” He probably wouldn't say anything else without Draco, but it was worth a shot. 

 

Blaise winced slightly at her question. He wanted to tell her everything, but that wasn't fair to Draco. There were some things only his boyfriend could explain. He told Hermione this, and she seemed to accept it.

 

“Now you know the truth, how do you feel?” He asked her apprehensively. 

 

“Quite honestly?” She asked, looking at him with wide eyes. 

 

He nodded, swallowing nervously. 

 

“I'm... not sure. I need to think about all of this. I—” She stopped herself from asking the one question she was dreading the answer to. 

 

“I,  _ what _ , Hermione?” 

 

“What do you want from me?” She whispered. “What is it that you and Draco both want from me _ right now _ ?”

 

“We just want to be your friends. That’s all we want, I promise. If you decide that you’d like to take this further, then we will discuss it, okay? But, for now, please just spend some time with us and get to know us. That’s all we ask.” He smiled softly. 

 

“Thank you, ” she whispered, “for being honest... and for looking after me tonight.” 

 

She yawned and moved her hand from his to rub her eyes. 

 

“That's what friends do, right? They look out for each other?”

 

“That's right, and it's much appreciated, so thank you… again.”

 

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Stop thanking me, please?” 

 

“Fine,” she huffed light-heartedly. “And… em… I will try and speak to Draco at some point tomorrow, Blaise.” 

 

“There’s no pressure, Hermione. I don’t want you to stress about this anymore, alright? Now go to sleep,” he ordered with a smile. He ran his hand down her face and lightly grasped her chin between his fingers, leaning forward and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. He let go, turning onto his back, and retaking her hand in his. He smiled as he heard Hermione sigh contentedly. After a while, when he thought she had gone to sleep, she spoke again. 

 

“Blaise?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I like the Italian nicknames you call me.”

 

“Go to sleep, Hermione,” he replied, squeezing her hand, secretly pleased to hear that as she settled down. 

 

He decided he would stay for a while and make sure she didn't start having a nightmare before heading off to find Draco. He had a good idea where to look. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

THIS LIFE

Chapter Thirteen 

~•~•~•~

_ Recap: _

 

_ Harry fucking saviour of the fucking world, bane of Draco's fucking existence Potter stood before him, grinning like a drunken twat. His hair was unmentionable, and his glasses were skewed across his face. Draco noticed the redness in his cheeks and the smell of alcohol emanating from him. He was pissed. While Draco was just beginning to feel the effect of the whisky he had drunk on his way down to the pitch, the boy who refused to die was completely inebriated.  _

 

_ “Potter,” Draco drawled, with his Malfoy sneer plastered across his aristocratic features.  _

 

_ “Malfoy,” Harry spat back.  _

 

_ “What are you doing here?”  _

 

_ “Could ask you the same thing, ferret. Aren't you supposed to be talking with your boyfriend and my best friend right now?” Harry slurred, swaying slightly.  _

 

_ “And what the fuck do you know about it, scarhead?”  _

 

_ “More than you think, Malfoy,” Harry answered, following as Draco headed towards the entrance to the pitch.  _

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco strode purposefully through the entrance to the Quidditch pitch and looked around in the dark. He began to make his way over to the Slytherin stands when a noise behind stopped him. 

 

“Malfooyyy.”

 

He rolled his eyes, clenching his teeth before turning to face the Boy Wonder. 

 

“What, Potter?” He hissed, angrily. 

 

All Draco had wanted was some peace and quiet; he’d already had to deal with Snape,  _ and _ the ensuing guilt over not writing to his mother. Now Harry FUCKING Potter was bugging the shit out of him. 

 

The scarred prick hiccupped while attempting to straighten his glasses. “I —  _ hic _ — think we need to —  _ hic _ — talk, Mal —  _ hic _ — foy. Don't you?” He replied, whilst concentrating on not wobbling. 

 

“I couldn't think of anything worse,  _ Potter _ . Why would I want to sit down and talk with  _ you _ ?” 

 

On his third attempt, Harry conjured a glass of water and drank from it quickly, hoping to clear his hiccups. After refilling it three more times, he took a deep breath, the relief on his face evident. Draco just stood and stared, his expression bored, his foot cramped from his irritated tapping.

 

“Firstly, just tell me if Hermione found you?” Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead as the beginning of a headache started to make an appearance. He’d left Hermione at her portrait when she’d been determined to speak to both Draco and Blaise. Now he watched Draco flinch, and Harry frowned even deeper, making his head hurt more. “From your reaction, I would say she found you both.”

 

“What's it to you?” Draco spat defensively, turning his back and heading to the Slytherin side of the stadium. 

 

“Malfoy, for fuck's sake!” Harry despaired at the snarky Slytherin. He caught up, stumbling a little before grabbing him by the elbow. 

 

Draco spun out of Harry's grip, his face contorted with rage. 

 

“Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me,” Draco warned the black-haired wizard swaying in front of him. “You may think that just because you and Granger defended me at my trial that I owe you somehow, but you are very much mistaken. Now piss off!” Draco’s hand twitched toward his wand; he wanted to hex the Gryffindor idiot  _ so much _ . 

 

“No, I won't piss off, Malfoy. I spoke to Hermione earlier and she explained what she discussed with Parkinson. I told her to confront you both. So what happened?” Harry instantly moved to follow Draco when the snarky snob just glared at him without answering and stormed away again. 

 

Malfoy walked up the steps to his usual spot on the top row and stared out over the darkened pitch, remembering all the times he had stood there, acting like he was the King of Slytherin, or flying above as Seeker. He’d been an arrogant little tosser back then — was well aware of it. He shook his head to clear away his embarrassing childhood behaviour, noticing Potter out of the corner of his eye, stopping to lean against the same railing a few seats down, also looking around the quiet, dark stadium. 

 

Draco sighed, taking a deep drink from his bottle before placing it on the bench behind him and turning back around. 

 

“She found us,” he spoke out loudly. 

 

Potter turned towards him, waiting for Draco to carry on, but the blond git kept staring out in the same direction. 

 

Draco needed a moment; it was hard enough retelling the story, nevermind having to do so in front of fucking Potter. And he certainly didn't want to see the Holy One's face while he spoke.

 

“ _ And? _ ” Harry asked, a slight impatience in his tone. He already knew what Hermione had told him; he just wanted to see if she'd stuck to her word and faced them, or backed out. Since the end of the war, Hermione had pulled back from any confrontation. She had become extremely introverted, and would get lost inside her head a lot of the time. While Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys seemed to be coping somewhat — with the exception of George — Hermione was declining. So for her to have confronted the snakes she lived with would mean she’d finally found her courage again. If that was the case, Harry would be extremely pleased and proud of her.  

 

“ _ And... _ ” Draco mimicked Harry but adding his distinct Malfoy sneer. “Pansy told her how Blaise and I both feel but, before I could hear her reject us both, I ran.” 

 

He lowered his head to look at the stands and pitch below. There was no use fighting it. If he wanted to have Hermione in his life, then he needed Potter on side. And, as much as Draco loathed him and his ginger-headed sidekick, they were Hermione’s best friends and came as a package deal — unfortunately. He turned to look at Potter; the stupid prick now had a ridiculous grin on his face, and his glasses were still wonky. 

 

“Why are you grinning like that?” Draco demanded. 

 

“Honestly? I’m just proud of her. It would have taken a lot for her to do that and I’m glad she did… it’ll help,” he whispered at the end, too quietly for Malfoy to hear. 

 

Harry didn’t know if Draco was aware of Hermione’s somewhat fragile state at the moment, and he certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him if she didn’t want him to know. He just hoped that Draco hadn't given her a hard time and hoped Blaise was with her now. 

 

As if he'd been in Harry's mind using Legilimency, Draco explained that he'd left Blaise with Hermione, and she was perfectly safe with the soft-mannered Italian she shared her living space with. 

 

That put Harry's mind at rest a little, but he still wanted answers. 

 

“Sooo… how — OOMPH!” Harry drawled drunkenly, leaning back too far, his hands frantically grabbing for the railing in front of him. 

 

Draco whipped his head around at the sound of the dull thud, only to find Harry  _ drunken fuck _ Potter sprawled over the bench with his legs in the air, laughing hysterically. 

 

_ Great, just bloody great. _ Draco expressed his frustration by kicking Harry’s shin and ordering the prick to stop acting like a complete wanker and get up. Merlin, he couldn't stand the idiot laid flat on his back in front of him. He couldn't deal with him sober, let alone drunk and dopey. 

 

He turned back towards the pitch, waiting for Potter to stop laughing, regain what little sense he had, and pull himself up. Harry plonked down on the bench and took deep lungfuls of air, his laughing fit having caused him to lose his breath. Once he’d calmed, he tried to arrange his thoughts to ask the best possible questions. It wasn't going to be easy with this particular wizard, and he winced as he remembered the Muggle saying —  _ Like trying to get blood from a stone. _

 

“Okay, okay… Malfoy, I'm good. I’m good,” Harry began. “So… eh... explain to me  _ how _ you and your boyfriend feel about my best friend. I want to know how you intend to act towards her, and  _ why _ you bullied her for years if — all along — it was true that you loved her. I mean, what the fuck? Who treats someone they have feelings for the way you did? Because if that's how it's done, I'd hate to see how you treat someone you  _ don't  _ like. Oh… no… wait... We did, didn’t we? When you tormented the three of us ALL THE FUCKING TIME!” 

 

Harry couldn't help it; once he'd started, it seemed he couldn't stop. He didn't trust Draco Malfoy an inch and, if this were some devious plan between the ferret, Zabini, and Parkinson to embarrass Hermione, he would find a way of destroying all three of them with barely a backward glance. 

 

“Fucking hell, Potter!” Draco exclaimed. “Calm down, for Merlin's sake. You'll give yourself a nosebleed thinking that quickly.” 

 

“Stop evading and just  _ tell me _ ,” Harry urged the infuriating blond bastard. When he still didn’t get a reply after a few minutes, he sighed and tried a different approach. “I know you don't trust me, Malfoy, but believe me when I say that Hermione is like a sister to me and I would do anything… and I mean,  _ anything _ to protect her. One of the things she hates most is the publicity around us right now. She likes to protect her privacy and, at this moment,  _ I _ am the  _ only _ person in the world that she trusts one hundred percent, got me? So whatever you say  _ here _ will only be discussed between me, you, and Hermione. Alright? Or do you need it written in our  _ blood _ ?” 

 

Draco thought it best to ignore Potter’s last comment. “What about the Weasel? Surely she's told him as well?”

 

“No, she hasn't actually,” Harry frowned.

 

“Why not?” Draco asked curiously. What was so special about Potter that Hermione told him everything. 

 

“Hermione and I are like brother and sister, Malfoy. Neither one of us has ever indicated anything more than that —  _ ever! _ She feels more comfortable confiding in me. See, without the Weasleys as an adopted family, we would only have each other.” He looked directly at Draco, searching the ferret’s face for the truth. “Has she told you anything about the time we spent on the run?” 

 

Draco shook his head. “We haven't sat around a roaring fire, toasting marshmallows, and swapping fucking war stories yet, Potter,” Draco spat sarcastically.  _ Was this really the time for that type of conversation?  _

 

“Don't worry; it's nothing too traumatic,” Harry declared, rolling his eyes. “There was a time when things just… became too much. We’d been on the run for months, dirty, hungry, tired, and so bloody afraid. We’d no idea what we were doing, and the pressure had finally gotten to all of us. Ron and I got into a fight and he went to leave us—” Harry sighed quietly as those unpleasant memories came flooding back. “—but, before he left, he asked Hermione what she was going to do — go with him or stay with me. Ron had gotten it into his head that something was going on between us, although she actually fancied him! Thing is, though, she understood how important the mission to kill Snake Face was, you know? She saw the bigger picture, and it was a lot fucking bigger than some petty squabble. So she stayed; she didn’t even have to think about it. I-I’ll never be able to repay her for that decision, Malfoy. She stuck with me from the very beginning, and I’d probably be dead now if it weren’t for her. So believe me when I say, I will  _ never _ break her trust.” 

 

Hearing Potter’s declaration of devotion to Hermione calmed Draco somewhat; he felt a little better about the conversation with the specky-eyed Gryffindor twat.

 

“We also know Ron has a temper, and totally despises you. If he knew you and Zabini liked Hermione, it would cause untold problems,” Harry added. 

 

“Say she agrees to be with us someday. He’ll have to find out then,” Draco replied smugly. 

 

“Well, we cross that bridge  _ if _ we come to it.” 

 

They both raised their bottles of whisky, clinking them together before drinking some more. 

 

Draco was sure that Potter didn't need any more alcohol but who was he to tell him to stop? He didn’t know, nor did he care, why the Gryffindork was so drunk and skulking about the Quidditch pitch. 

 

“So, Malfoy, you gonna answer my previous questions or what?” Harry asked again, staring up at the ferret with his brows furrowed.  

 

Draco knew Potter wouldn't give up until he got something from him. “You really are an annoying prat, you know that? I don't know why Hermione keeps you around.”

 

“Insults? Really? Good one, Malfoy. Very imaginative. Still going to ask the same questions though,” Harry grinned. He was as stubborn as they came, and didn’t give up easily — just like he hadn't earlier when he made Hermione confess what had been plaguing her. 

 

“Alright, alright,” Draco acquiesced, his palms up in surrender. He huffed loudly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair before stepping over to the bench and sitting down next to Potter — but keeping a respectable distance between them. 

 

Drink more whisky — that’s what Draco had to do. Then he wouldn't give a shit what he said. Well, not until the morning at least, and he could deal with it then. He picked up the bottle from the space next to him, frowning as he realised he'd drunk almost half of it already. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, the bottle dangling from one hand as it swung back and forth. 

 

“Do you know what it was like having to grow up the way I did, Potter?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes behind Draco's back and faked a yawn. “What? In a huge mansion with your every whim catered for? Yeah, It must have been awful,” he remarked, sarcastically. 

 

“Don't presume things you know  _ nothing _ about!” Draco spat back, casting a venomous look at Harry, and breathing deeply to control his temper. “That's the thing with you Gryffindors; you think you know all the answers and you're never wrong, are you?” 

 

“Calm down, Malfoy. I was only joking,” Harry lied. He really wasn't, but seeing Malfoy's reaction had worried him a small bit. He clearly didn't know anything about Draco’s life. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it.” 

 

Draco waved him off, although he still sounded angry. “It's fine. Everybody thinks it's like that but, let me tell you, growing up in that Manor with my father was far from easy.” 

 

He proceeded to tell Harry a few home truths about life with Lucius, how he was punished if he didn't treat Hermione, or any Muggle-born, the way he had been taught. He explained about the first time he'd seen Hermione, and how he still felt about her now. He never mentioned what happened during the war, nor did he include his relationship with Blaise.

 

Harry roared laughing at hearing about Draco almost causing a scene at the Yule Ball. The whole of Gryffindor would have paid good Galleons to see Krum punch him at that time. 

 

“So you're telling me that you've been interested in Hermione since day one, and that everything that's happened between then and now has all been an act?” Harry asked incredulously — once he'd stopped laughing. 

 

“I wouldn't say it was  _ all _ an act, no. There was a time in second year when I thought I'd gotten over her. It was just before the first time I called her a Mu— well, you know.” Draco waved his hand dismissively in front of him. 

 

“A Mudblood?” Harry spat. “Yeah, I remember.”

 

“Yes… well… that,” Draco said, shifting his weight. He felt more than uncomfortable sharing this with Potter. Besides, Malfoys didn't  _ share _ their emotions, so this was even harder. “My father had locked me in the dungeons for three days with no food and no light after he caught me telling Blaise how brilliant I thought Hermione was — even though I knew she was Muggle-born and sorted into the wrong house.” 

 

_ “WHAT?” _

 

“I'm not making this up, Potter,” Draco remarked. 

 

“Never said you were, but I just find it so unbelievable. No one would've thought that your father treated you like that,” Harry remarked. 

 

They had all seen pompous little Malfoy  _ threatening to tell his father  _ every time someone said or did something he didn't like. 

 

“Yes, well, my father showed the public face well; we are Malfoys, after all. No one could know what was really going on behind closed doors. We're wizarding elite, and that had to show on the outside.” His tone adopted an air similar to that of his father.

 

Harry rolled his eyes again at the term Malfoy had used.  _ Wizarding elite, my arse. _ “So, you were punished for the things you said about Hermione?”

 

Draco nodded. 

 

“You must have resented her slightly in second year,” Harry surmised. 

 

Draco looked up quickly, shocked that he had gotten it straight away. Who knew Harry Potter was that perceptive? 

 

“I did,” Draco admitted. “It felt good to call her what I did and see her cry in front of everyone. I thought I'd finally got my revenge for the punishments I'd been dealt because of her. It was stupid reasoning…  _ fuck _ , I was only twelve. Do you want to know what I did that night? The same night after I'd called her that?” He turned his head back towards Potter again and saw the wizard slowly nod his head. “I lay on my bed, proud of myself for upsetting and embarrassing her in front of everyone. I was twirling my wand in my hand and picturing her face. Next minute, I was crying. In my mind she was crying, and it started me off. I realised what I'd done, and I was... I was devastated. That's when I knew...” He broke off, his head lowering in shame. 

 

“Knew what?” Harry asked quietly. He felt dizzy with all this new knowledge about Malfoy. Well, that and the alcohol. Leaning back against the bench — without falling down the gap this time — he took some deep breaths. It had gotten colder the longer they'd been out here but, right now, Harry was glad of the frigid air. 

 

“I knew, without a doubt, that I felt  _ something _ for Hermione Granger,” Draco confirmed, the conviction of his statement battering against Harry like a storm. 

 

And there it was; the truth at last. Harry had heard it for himself now, and he still didn't know what to make of it. He knew he needed to sober up, and quickly, if he wanted to remember any of this the next day. 

 

Sensing his discomfort, Draco decided to offer an olive branch. “Look, Potter, cards on the table, yeah? The fact is, I like Granger…  _ a lot _ . Yes, I'm in a relationship with Blaise but he feels the same way about her. I suppose all I want is the chance for her to get to know the real me and not the prick she's had to put up with for the last seven years.” 

 

He didn’t feel good admitting all that to his archrival but Draco had already made the decision to confide in Potter. As Hermione’s best friend, Harry had a lot of influence with her and was probably their best bet for getting him into her good graces.

 

“Shit, Malfoy. I never thought I’d see the day that you of all people would show interest in a Muggle-born. Just goes to show you never really know a person.” Harry stood from the bench and stretched his arms over his head, wobbling slightly as he suffered a head rush. 

 

“You seem to be taking this better than I thought,” Draco remarked, standing as well so Saint Potter wouldn’t be leaning over him. 

 

“Yeah, well, I know Hermione enough to be sure she’ll make the best decision for her, and whatever that is you’ll have to accept it. She’s the kind of person who’ll gather all the facts, think about it to death, make a decision, and not back down from it. Once she’s decided, that’s it,” Harry confirmed, so there was no mistake about how this was going to go. 

 

“I know how she works, Potter,” Draco declared, knowing full well that, if Hermione decided she didn’t want anything to do with them, that would be that. 

 

“So why did you run tonight, Malfoy, and leave Zabini to clear up your mess?”

 

Draco sighed. “I didn’t know how I’d react if she told Blaise and me to bugger off, so I took myself out of the situation. Blaise is better at things like that than I am.” 

 

“And what do you think Zabini is telling her?”

 

“Probably what we both discussed and agreed to a few days ago.”

 

“Which was?”

 

“Fuck’s sake, Potter. What is this? Twenty sodding questions?” Draco asked, getting fed up with the interrogation. 

 

“I told you I wanted answers,” Harry replied, not backing down. 

 

“Fine!” Draco declared, exasperated. He was slowly losing the will to live; he’d rather go back and face whatever was happening in his room than stay out here with this insufferable prick. He began making his way back down the steps, with Potter following quickly behind. 

 

“It’s cold. I’m going to bed. You want more answers?” He looked back at Harry with a raised eyebrow. “You have until I reach my portrait and then question time is finished.” 

 

Oh, there was plenty Harry still wanted to know. He drunkenly stumbled after Draco. 

 

“What do you two want with my friend? Don’t you think she’s been through enough already?” He shouted at Draco’s retreating back. 

 

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed before stopping and turning to face him. 

 

“We don’t want anything untoward; I just want her to give me a chance to show I’m not the person she thought she knew. As for Blaise and me, well... yes, we would like her as a part of our relationship. We’re not forcing her to choose or make any kind of decision right now. We _ know _ she’s been struggling.” 

 

“Of course you know she’s been struggling, you prick! Or did you forget that you made her pass out last week? Just from  _ looking at you _ ?” Harry  _ did _ shout at him this time. Merlin, he wanted to punch the arrogant twat. 

 

“No, I didn’t forget,” Draco replied, through gritted teeth. 

 

“I don't think you understand; it’s more than that. The war has  _ broken _ her, Malfoy. She needs to be put back together. I just think—“

 

“I know, Potter,” Draco whispered, with his head down. “Hermione’s not the only one this war has broken.” 

 

“That’s not the only issue here, Malfoy,” Harry replied, slightly shocked at Draco’s admission. “I mean... Really? Do you think she’d be happy to share you and Zabini? Do you even  _ know _ what you’re asking? A polyamorous relationship is bad enough. Wait until everyone finds out that one-third of the Golden Trio — war heroine and Gryffindor Princess, Hermione Granger — has shacked up with two of Slytherin’s finest! Ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, and his boyfriend, Blaise Zabini? You think she’s struggling now? You just take into consideration what you’re truly asking of her. The papers will make it look as sleazy as possible; people will turn on her. Do you honestly want that for her?” 

 

Harry felt his temper rising at the arrogance of this pompous prick standing in front of him, and his defensiveness towards Hermione grew stronger. He wouldn’t let these Slytherin arseholes hurt her.

 

“Of course not,” Draco spat angrily. 

 

“Then after tonight, Malfoy, I suggest you back off and leave her alone. She would’ve gotten enough answers from Zabini to have a real think about everything. If I hear you've been pressuring her or upsetting her, I’ll fucking kill you.” Harry clenched his fists as he spoke.

 

Ignoring the death threat completely, Draco answered, “I’m not fucking stupid, Potter. You think I’ve waited this long for a chance with her to go and fuck it all up now?” 

 

He turned, storming through the entrance doors to the castle and towards the stairs. Once they’d walked up two flights uninterrupted, they had to wait for the third set to move around to them. Draco turned to face the so-called Saviour of the Wizarding World. 

 

“I meant  _ everything _ I said out there, even if I am drunk. I’d do anything for Hermione, Potter. Now she knows, we plan to back off completely and let her come to us... if that’s what she wants. Now, will you please stop harassing me?” He pleaded, almost whining at still having to put up with the short-sighted git. The last hour or so had been more than enough to last a lifetime. 

 

Draco prayed thanks to Merlin when the remaining flights of stairs cooperated... eventually. Stepping off at the sixth floor, he quickly made his way in the opposite direction to that of the Gryffindor pain in the arse.

 

“Malfoy,” Harry called down the corridor. 

 

“What?” Draco shouted back, not turning around and continuing forward. 

 

“Remember what I said; her decision is final, don’t push her, and  _ don’t _ fucking hurt her!” 

 

“I heard you earlier, idiot,” Draco shouted again before disappearing around the corner.

 

Harry sighed and stumbled off towards Gryffindor Tower. He felt kind of sorry for Malfoy; he and Blaise certainly had their work cut out for them trying to secure Hermione’s affections. 

 

~•~•~•~

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter Fourteen

This Life 

Chapter Fourteen 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco stood — mouth agape — at the scene before him. After being given another earful by his godfather for being inebriated, he had crashed through the door into the living room, only to find a dying fire and two empty glasses on the coffee table. 

 

Figuring his boyfriend and roommate had gone to bed — due to the extremely late hour — he opened the door to his and Blaise’s room quietly, not wanting to wake his partner. 

 

He frowned as he found the bed empty and unslept in, turning to make his way through the shared bathroom into Hermione’s room, stopping dead at the picture before him. 

 

His boyfriend was lying on his back, fully clothed on top of the duvet. Hermione was tucked under the covers and curled into Blaise’s side. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder with her hands underneath the cheek pressed into him. He had one arm around her and the other lying by his side, his cheek resting against the top of her head. 

 

Draco smiled. Merlin forbid anyone ever heard him say it out loud, but they looked cute cuddled up together like that. He wanted nothing more than to climb onto that bed and curl up on Hermione’s other side and wrap himself around her. But he knew he’d never let go of her if he did. 

 

What had happened for them to be in this situation?

 

As if sensing his presence, Blaise opened his eyes, rubbing the bleariness away with his free hand. His gaze settled on the towering form of his slightly swaying blond boyfriend. 

 

“Draco,” Blaise said quietly, aware of the sleeping witch pressed into his side. She must have moved in the night because that was  _ not _ how they had fallen asleep. 

 

“Blaise,” Draco whispered back, not wanting to disturb Hermione either. She looked so peaceful, like all of her worries had left her, just for a few hours of uninterrupted and much-needed sleep. 

 

“What time is it?” Blaise asked. 

 

“It’s around two,” Draco answered nonchalantly, still staring at Hermione’s sleeping form. 

 

“Merlin, I didn’t realise it was so late. I must've nodded off,” the Italian exclaimed quietly, shocked at how long he’d been there. It was about eleven when Hermione had come back earlier, and they’d spoken for about an hour before he’d brought her in here following her panic attack.

 

“We need to talk,” Draco told him. 

 

“Yes, we do. Not here though, our room,” the still sleepy Slytherin told him, slowly untangling himself from Hermione. He placed her head down on the pillow and moved off the side of the bed. 

 

Hermione moaned at the movement, and both wizards froze when she muttered ‘Draco’ in her sleep. 

 

Draco was stunned by what he’d heard. He turned his head toward Blaise, a smile slowly creeping across the corners of his mouth. 

 

“Tell me you heard that?” 

 

“Keep your bloody voice down! Yes, I heard, we’ve got a lot to talk about so come on. Next door. Now,” Blaise hissed, walking over to Draco and guiding him out by his shoulder. “Let’s leave her to sleep, she needs it.” He added sadly, remembering how distraught Hermione had been earlier. 

 

Blaise made sure both bathroom doors were left open and cast a  _ Muffliato _ once he’d entered their room. She wouldn’t hear them talking, but they’d hear her if she started having a nightmare. 

 

Both wizards striped off their clothing, except their boxer shorts, and left them in neat piles on the armchair. Draco lit a fire, placed his wand on the bedside table, and joined Blaise in bed. 

 

They turned to face each other. 

 

“Okay, Blaise,” Draco began. “Let’s talk.”

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione awoke with a start. Her head was pounding, her mouth felt like a desert and, for some reason, she felt rather unsettled within herself. She sat up, her fingers rubbing against her temples in the hope of reliving the throbbing behind her eyes. The events of the previous night flooded her mind, and she groaned loudly.

 

Moving slowly, she got up and headed for the shower, thoughts of her talk with Blaise plaguing her. They’d fallen asleep together but he wasn’t here now. She also wondered whether Draco had made it back or not, considering how upset he’d been. Maybe Blaise was with him. She grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom. 

 

Once Hermione was showered and dressed she decided she was in need of a  _ Sober-Up _ potion. The smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted her senses as she stepped from her room.

 

Draco was bent over the large study table scratching away at a piece of parchment. He raised his head in Hermione’s direction at the sound of her door opening. 

 

He grinned at the state she was in: bloodshot eyes, unexplainable hair, a scowl across her face. 

 

“Morning, sunshine.” 

 

“Urgh… be quiet, Malfoy, not so loud,” she grumbled as she made her way over to the kitchen, rubbing her forehead.  

 

Draco stood and pulled out the chair next to him. “Here, take a seat, and I’ll fetch you a coffee and a potion.”

 

“My hero,” Hermione replied, as sarcastically as possible. She took the proffered seat and flopped ungracefully onto it. 

 

“So you’re not a morning person then, Granger?”

 

“Well, usually I am, just not when I’ve been drinking Firewhisky and had little sleep. Glad I don’t have classes until this afternoon,” she explained through a yawn.

 

“If you don’t have classes until later, why are you dressed and ready to go at seven in the morning?” He shouted out to her. 

 

“Promised to meet Harry and Ron for breakfast,” she winced. “And don’t bloody shout!”

 

Draco rolled his eyes whilst walking back towards the sleepy witch, smiling at how cute she looked rubbing her eyes and moving that mop of hair out of her face.

 

“Here,” he offered, setting a steaming mug in front of her with a potion bottle before retaking his seat.

 

She smiled in thanks before uncorking the potion and drinking it down in one.

 

“Yuck,” she exclaimed, shuddering at the taste. “I know it works well, but it tastes really horrible.”

 

“Yes, it does,” Draco agreed, laughing at her distress.

 

He watched her sip the coffee he’d made, clearly trying to get the taste of potion out of her mouth. “This is… nice,” she declared, surprise evident across her face.

 

“Don't look so shocked, Granger. You don’t date an Italian for years without learning how to make good coffee! Besides, Blaise is definitely not a morning person; he needs the caffeine or he’s like a Hippogriff with a sore head.”

 

“Really?” She asked, smirking. “Is he awake yet?”

 

“No. We didn’t get to sleep until late so I thought I’d leave him be. There’s a rule to this, Granger,” he teased, “never wake a sleeping Blaise.” 

 

“Ha! Like you never wake a sleeping baby?”

 

“Something like that,” he answered, slightly confused. He’d never heard that expression before but agreed with her anyway. 

 

“Are you saying Blaise acts like a baby?”

 

“He certainly does if someone wakes him up without coffee. Want to try with one?” Draco asked, smiling wickedly, arching one of those pale eyebrows. 

 

“Actually... yes, I do.” Standing up, her stomach already calmer after drinking the hangover cure, she walked to the kitchen to make Blaise a coffee. Once she had the hot mug in her hands, and crossed to the boys’ bedroom, she peeked her head around the door. 

 

Draco chuckled just behind her. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he goaded, reaching around Hermione and holding the door open for her. 

 

Huffing, but ignoring his remark, Hermione made her way over to the sleeping Slytherin. She swallowed at the sight of him; the duvet only covered his body from the hips down. He had one arm over his head and the other lying across his stomach. He was striking to look at; all that Quidditch had certainly paid off. She found herself gazing at the hard planes of muscle that formed his abs. His skin looked so smooth — like rich milk chocolate — she wanted to lick him all over him to see if he tasted as good as he looked. 

 

Hermione couldn’t believe the salacious thoughts running through her mind. 

 

She’d seen him before, in the shower —  _ all _ of him. That thought made her blush as she suddenly remembered what else had been going on in the shower. Biting her lip, she placed his coffee down on the bedside table and moved to the edge of the bed. 

 

“Blaise,” she called softly. 

 

“Mmm.” A grumbled response. 

 

“Blaise, wake up, I have coffee,” she tried, poking him in the shoulder.

 

He reached up and tried to swat her away. “ _ Leemelone _ , Draco,” Blaise mumbled, turning his back to her, burrowing further under the duvet he’d pulled around him. 

 

“It’s not me, prick, it’s Hermione. You know, bushy-haired Gryffindor bookworm?” Draco laughed at his boyfriend; he was used to this routine. 

 

“Urgh… Gryffdor… only Hermonee,” Blaise mumbled into the pillow. 

 

Hermione and Draco both laughed out loud at his response before she sat down on the bed and reached out to him. The  _ said  _ bushy-haired Gryffindor bookworm grabbed him by the shoulder and gave it a firm shake, noticing the feel of his warm, silky skin under her fingers. 

 

“Lucky for you, I’m the only Gryffindor here, so get up and drink this coffee I made,” she demanded of the wizard who was slowly turning and sitting up. 

 

Draco grinned, watching Hermione try and handle a grumpy Blaise.

 

“Bloody hell, woman! If this is what I’ve got to look forward to then maybe I changed my mind about everything I said last night,” Blaise huffed, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes and yawning loudly, before turning to wink knowingly at her. 

 

Hermione blushed and moved her hand from his shoulder, which Blaise caught in mid-air and brought to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He looked up, his gaze intense.

 

“Good morning,  _ Dolcezza _ .”

 

Hermione forgot how to breathe whilst gazing into his warm brown eyes, hearing his slight Italian accent, husky with sleep. God, this man was sexy, caring, compassionate, and not at all how Hermione thought he would be. He was making her feel things. She knew that fluttering in her belly was the same feeling she’d had when Viktor had taken her to the Yule Ball; it was excitement, nerves, and maybe, the beginnings of a crush — as ridiculous and immature as that word sounded to her. 

 

How could she not? The wizard before her was gorgeous and intelligent. Hermione turned to pass him his coffee. 

 

Draco stayed silent during this exchange before joining them on the bed. He smiled at his partner. “Well, this is nice, isn’t it?” He asked airily. “Very domesticated.” Blaise shot him a _ don’t push it _ warning look before sipping his drink. 

 

“Don’t get used to it. I just wanted to see what you were whining about when you said he was a nightmare to wake. That was easy. You should try and wake Ron up one morning.”

 

Both wizards groaned at the same time. “Hermione,  _ sweetheart _ ,” Draco drawled sarcastically, “please don’t mention the Weasel at this time of the morning. I don’t think our stomachs could handle it.”

 

Smacking him lightly on the arm, she scolded him. “Don’t be horrible, Draco. I was just saying, that’s all. You whine about nothing! Blaise was easy to wake, I haven’t even had to remove my wand,” she declared, proudly. 

 

They both raised their eyebrows, Blaise laughing at the image of Hermione hexing her friends awake. 

 

“To be fair to the moaning prat behind you, I’m not the easiest person to be around in the morning but, if it’s you waking me from now on, I’m sure I’ll be more… cooperative.”

 

“Honestly, you two are terrible.” She smiled to let him know she was joking and he grinned. 

 

“So, how are you feeling this morning?” He asked sincerely. He’d been so worried, he still was.

 

“Oh, I’m fine,” she sighed. “Draco got me a  _ Sober-Up _ and coffee. I’ll be okay.” 

 

“Don’t give us that bull, Granger. Blaise wasn’t asking about your hangover and you know it.” Draco leaned closer to her. 

 

She whipped her head around to face him, an arctic glare spread across her face. 

 

“What do you know about it, Malfoy?” 

 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Princess. Don’t you think Blaise and I spoke last night — or this morning actually — about what was said and what happened with you?” Draco was not the least bit intimidated by the look she was giving him. He watched her features soften a little and her shoulders sag. 

 

“Look… all I know is…” she began to say, turning her head to look down at the floor. 

 

“Hermione, look at us,” Blaise said quietly, reaching out to place a hand on her waist. She turned her head to him, then Draco. 

 

“You can talk to us, Hermione. No pressure,” the blond told her softly. 

 

“Okay, well… a lot was said last night, and I need time to think,” she answered, nodding her head as if agreeing with herself. “I know you aren’t going to pressure me, but I think I’d still like for us to get along and be friends. The atmosphere has been weird around here the last few days, and I want things to go back to how they were before I found any of this out.” She waved a hand between Blaise and Draco. 

 

Draco was just about to respond but his boyfriend spoke first.

 

“That’s fine, Hermione, whatever you want. We’re just glad you’re speaking to us again,” he replied softly. Watching her smile back, seeing her eyes light up was something Blaise knew he’d never grow tired of. 

 

Hermione turned to look at Draco who nodded his head enthusiastically. “Whatever you want, Granger.”

 

“Good,” she breathed out, her shoulders relaxing slightly, having said what she wanted. “If you hurry up and get dressed, Blaise, you can both escort me to breakfast.” 

 

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” Draco called, as she got up and made her way to the door. “Can you give us five minutes and we’ll be right out?” 

 

“Of course,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “Five minutes, then I’m coming in.”

 

“You can come—” 

 

Draco Malfoy was  _ not _ finishing that sentence so Blaise threw a book from his bedside table right at him, just as Hermione closed the door behind her.

 

~•~•~•~

 

“Do you  _ have _ to tease her like that, Draco?” Blaise asked his boyfriend, who had tossed the book aside and was now crawling across the bed towards him like a predator stalking prey, his blond hair falling into his stormy eyes that were burning with a ferocity Blaise hadn’t seen for a while. He gulped as Draco crept nearer. 

 

“Do me a favour?” Draco asked, removing the coffee cup from his partner's hand and leaning so far over he pushed Blaise down onto the mattress while he placed the cup on the nightstand. 

 

“Wh-what?” Blaise answered, clearing his throat, his cock twitching as Draco lay across him. He knew that look, the one that said  _ I’m going to fuck you into the headboard.  _

 

Draco moved so he was lying along the length of Blaise’s hard body. “Shut up and kiss me.” 

 

“What about Herm—” Blaise started before Draco crashed his mouth down on Blaise’s supple lips. The kiss was aggressive, their lips moving hard against each other. Draco nipped and sucked on Blaise’s bottom lip demanding entry, their tongues twirling against each other. 

 

Blaise moved his hands until his fingers tangled in Draco’s fine blond hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled softly on the strands, eliciting a groan from his lover. The sound went straight to Blaise’s cock, and he tried to move to gain some friction. 

 

“Fuck, Blaise,” Draco breathed out heavily, dragging his lips away from his boyfriend’s. “Stop moving, or I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t see straight!” 

 

“Isn’t that what you want?” Blaise asked, moving again and licking a line up the side of Draco’s neck, watching as he shivered.  

 

“Ungh, stop it, seriously,” he tried again, a bit more forcefully. 

 

“Why should I?” Blaise teased. “Maybe I’d like nothing better right now than to be fucked by you.”

 

“Merlin, Blaise, what you do to me,” Draco moaned. “The things you make me feel.”

 

Blaise pulled Draco’s head back down and attacked his mouth once more, their tongues swirling. 

 

Draco ground his rock-hard length into Blaise’s stomach while kissing and licking across his jaw and down the side of his neck, biting softly into his skin. 

 

Blaise squirmed beneath him. He loved Draco’s tongue doing wicked things but, even though Draco had started it, Blaise realised this wasn’t the time for fucking. 

 

“Draco,” he called, pushing at the blond's shoulders. 

 

“Mmm,” came the muffled reply as Draco continued his attack on Blaise’s neck. 

 

“We need to… OH, MOTHER OF MERLIN,” he shouted out as Draco nibbled his earlobe, knowing it would send him crazy. 

 

Draco loved to tease, blowing cool air across Blaise’s ear then licking just underneath and nibbling again on the soft lobe. 

 

“Oh… Jesus… fuck!”

 

Draco raised his head and smirked down at his lover. “I know I’m doing something right when you start calling out for the Muggle gods.”

 

“Such a prick,” Blaise replied, pushing at Draco's chest until he’d managed to flip him over to the other side of the bed. 

 

“Hey,” Draco cried, sitting up and pouting. 

 

“As much as I’d like to continue this, I don't think it’s a good idea right now. Hermione’s just out there, and we don’t want to give her more reasons to run.” Blaise told him breathlessly. 

 

“No… you’re right… I suppose,” Draco acquiesced, sighing and running his hands through his blond hair. “No more setting up intentional walk-ins on her. No pushing.”

 

“Agreed,” Blaise whispered, getting out of bed so he could dress. He noticed the look in Draco's eye and sighed to himself. 

 

“Potter’s wrong, you know,” Blaise said, buttoning up his shirt and reaching for his tie. “She’s not broken. The Hermione we know and adore is still in there. I told her that last night.” He moved to the mirror to check that everything looked good for the day. 

 

“I know… it’s just… I feel so guilty all the bloody time. Watching her the past couple of weeks, it’s been… eye-opening. For fuck's sake, Blaise, she flinches when a door bangs too loudly. That’s not normal. Do you know how many times a day she reaches for her wand? A lot — some days I’ve lost count. I think it’s just a subconscious reaction now; she doesn’t even know she’s doing it half the time, and it’s my fault. I should've done more to protect her when she and the morons were brought to the Manor.”

 

“No, Draco… no. It isn’t your fault, alright? You couldn’t have done any more than you did that day, without her  _ and you _ both ending up dead. Let’s not go through this again, love, please?” Blaise pleaded, he didn’t want a repeat of what had happened in the early part of the summer. 

 

Just after the war, as they waited for Draco's trial date, his lover had fallen into a black hole of depression. He had refused to see anyone except Blaise, not even Narcissa was allowed into the bedroom he had barricaded himself in. It was only with Blaise’s support and love that he’d managed to get through those dark days.

 

“I just—“

 

“No, I said. We are  _ not _ going there again. I think the final hurdle will be talking to Hermione about this, and that isn’t going to happen anytime soon, so you’re just going to have to keep it together for a while longer, alright?” He wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, breathing in his scent as he pulled him close. “I want you to heal so much, Draco. You know I’d do  _ anything _ for you not to have to carry around the demons you do, but she needs time — she’s not ready — and you can’t have that discussion with her now.”

 

“I know, really, I do. It’s just… I can’t see how we’re going to move forward when we are both holding so much back,” Draco sighed, leaning down and kissing Blaise gently on the lips. 

 

“It’ll come naturally. One day you’ll just be talking, someone will mention something, and the conversation will begin from there. Just stop thinking for awhile, yes?” Draco nodded his acceptance and closed his eyes at Blaise’s words, pressing their foreheads together. 

 

“Let’s look forward to spending some time with her in a normal setting. Just relax and enjoy,” Blaise whispered. 

 

Draco sighed before opening his eyes and, with a determined look, told Blaise they needed to escort their witch to breakfast. 

 

~•~•~•~

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter Fifteen

This Life 

Chapter Fifteen

~•~•~•~

 

As they neared the Great Hall, all three stopped abruptly when someone called for Draco from behind them. Turning at the same time, the trio faced Harry Potter who looked like death warmed up. 

 

“Err… hello,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. 

 

“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione said brightly. “Why do you look so ill?”

 

“Oh… erm… morning, Mio— I mean, Hermione,” he said apologetically, almost calling her the nickname Ron used; the one she hated. 

 

She huffed and crossed her arms. “Harry—“

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just hard when Ron calls you it all the time,” Harry interrupted her, not wanting a lecture from his best friend when he was suffering the effects of the alcohol from the night before. 

 

“Well, I really wish he wouldn’t. I hate it, Harry.” 

 

“I—”

 

“As lovely as this little interlude is, can we carry on to breakfast, Potter, or is there something you wanted?” Draco snarled. He couldn’t deal with the Chosen One — not after last night and his opening up a little to the bespectacled twat in front of him. 

 

“I need to speak to you for a minute, Malfoy.”

 

“Well, don’t let us stop you,” Blaise laughed, grabbing Hermione’s arm and walking the pair of them off through the Great Hall’s doors with Draco glaring at their treacherous, retreating backs. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

“I wonder what that was all about,” Hermione pondered, slightly concerned as to why Harry would need to talk to Draco. 

 

“They ran into each other last night at the Quidditch pitch. Draco said Potter was already drunk when he bumped into him,” Blaise explained, walking over to the Slytherin table without her even realising. 

 

Taking her arm from his and helping her over the bench to sit, he sniggered at how lost in thought the witch was that she didn’t even notice Pansy giggling next to her. It was only when the raven-haired girl clicked her fingers in front of Hermione’s face that she snapped back to her surroundings and noticed for the first time where she was. 

 

“Pa-Pansy?” Hermione stuttered, looking across the table at Blaise who was just sitting himself down. 

 

“No, I’m Blaise, not Pansy,” he teased, pouring her some pumpkin juice. 

 

“Sorry, no, I mean… erm...” She felt her cheeks heat up, embarrassed at sounding like an idiot. She huffed loudly and shook her head. “What I meant to say was—” she began more articulately “—hello, Pansy. Nice to see you.” 

 

She smiled at the girl next to her, then leaned across the table and asked Blaise why she was sitting with the Slytherins. 

 

“You weren’t paying attention and, now you’re speaking to us again, I thought we’d try McGonagall's house unity idea and have the Heads sit together. I would have sat at your table but I’d probably end up strangling the she-weasel, to be honest,” he answered truthfully, catching Hermione by surprise.  

 

“You’ve got a point, I suppose. Ron will be furious—“

 

“Speaking of,” Blaise interrupted, nodding in the direction behind Hermione’s shoulder. 

 

She turned her head to see Ron Weasley bearing down on their table, his face an angry shade of red. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Blaise. “You want to be my friend?” She asked him, smirking and raising an eyebrow. “You’d better get used to this then.”

 

“Hermione,” Ron spat from just behind her. 

 

“Ronald, good morning. How are you?” She asked her friend calmly, knowing it wouldn’t work when he was this riled up. 

 

“Don’t give me that,” the furious redhead snarled. “What are you doing sitting here?”

 

“I’m having breakfast, Ronald, what does it look like?” Spreading butter on the toast she had on her plate, she didn’t turn her head or acknowledge his presence any other way. 

 

“But-but why are you here? Sitting with these _ snakes _ ?”

 

“You may have forgotten, Ron, but the Headmistress wants us to engage with students from other houses and, seeing as Blaise is the Head Boy, we thought we’d start by me being here. Let’s face it,” she said aggressively, finally turning to look up at him, “I’m more welcome over here than Blaise would be over there.” She looked around his hulking frame to find Ginny glaring at her. 

 

Hermione stood to face her friend, not enjoying being looked down upon and berated for where she sat. Blaise rose with her, his hand twitching by his wand holster. 

 

“Look, Ron,” she sighed, frustrated. “We have to lead by example. No more of this prejudice over houses, especially for Blaise and myself. As the Heads, we have more responsibility than you. Why don’t you just sit down with  _ us _ and have some breakfast?”

 

“No, thank you,” he declared hotly. “If you’re sitting here, I’m off to find Harry.” Turning from her, he stomped away. 

 

“That went well,” she sighed, sitting back down. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll come around,” Pansy said, placing a comforting hand on top of Hermione’s for a second. 

 

“Thanks, Pansy.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

No one else spoke for a while, all sitting in comfortable silence, eating their food and sipping their drinks, until Draco walked through the door with a worried frown on his face. 

 

Blaise caught his eye as Draco shook his head slightly, indicating they’d talk about it later. The blond wizard took a seat next to his boyfriend and thanked him as Blaise poured him a glass of juice. 

 

“Granger, what are you doing sitting in the snake pit?” He asked, noticing the out of place witch opposite him. 

 

“House unity,” she offered by way of explanation. 

 

“Right,” he replied sarcastically, plating himself up some eggs. 

 

“What did Harry want?” 

 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he winked. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, really, Granger. It was just Quidditch nonsense,” Draco lied. 

 

Hermione frowned, not buying his excuse but leaving it anyway. _ Enough confrontation for one day, _ she rationalised to herself. 

 

“What are you doing after breakfast?” Draco asked, changing the subject. 

 

“I’m going to the library until lunch, why?”

 

“I have books to return, so Blaise and I will escort you there.” He spoke in a tone that left no room for argument and, for some reason, the look on his face compelled her to agree with him, so she nodded. 

 

“Good,” he sighed in relief. 

 

Blaise reached under the table and placed his hand on Draco's thigh, grabbing the blond wizard’s attention. 

 

“What’s going on?” 

 

Draco leaned forward so his lips were almost brushing Blaise’s ear. His warm breath fanning across his lobe sent shivers down Blaise’s spine.

 

“What’s going on,” Draco whispered, “is that after breakfast, you and I will take Hermione to the library, drop off the books, and then I’m going to take you back to our room.” Blaise felt Draco’s hand come down on his own and move them higher until his fingers were just brushing against Draco’s hardening cock. Blaise almost whimpered before remembering where he was. “And I’m going to fuck you for the next few hours.” Draco purred before pulling away, lest anyone catch them that close. 

 

Clearing his throat and loosening his tie, he sat up and smirked at the look on Hermione’s face. Wide-eyed, she stared back with her mouth open and her cheeks burning.

 

Blaise looked at her and grinned as well, his fingers still brushing Draco’s cock. How he wished they could take _ her _ back to their room and shag  _ her _ senseless for the rest of the morning. 

 

“So hot together, aren’t they, Granger?” Pansy whispered in her ear. Hermione gulped but didn’t answer. “It’s the contrasting skin tones I think does it for me.” 

 

_ “Pansy,” _ Hermione whispered in outrage. 

 

“Do you deny it? And don’t lie, Granger.”

 

_ Merlin, could this morning get any worse?  _

 

“No,” she told her honestly. “I don’t deny it.”

 

Pansy didn't say anything, she just smiled and turned back to her cereal. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco and Blaise walked Hermione to the library, made sure she was all set up, dropped off his books, and were now walking back to their room. 

 

“Draco, please tell me what’s going on. Your face when you came into the Hall earlier… well… you looked worried. And why did we have to take Hermione to the library?”

 

“I’ll tell you, but after I fuck you. I need you right now, Blaise, so please, no more questions until after,” Draco pleaded. He just wanted to lose himself in his lover for a while and forget everything. 

 

“Okay, whatever you want.”

 

“Good, come on,” he said, pulling Blaise along faster towards Snape's portrait. 

 

“Ah, Mr Malfoy, there you are,” their late professor drawled sarcastically. 

 

“Don’t bother! It’s written, and on my desk. I’ll send it at lunchtime.” Rolling his eyes, Draco gave the password and dashed through the opening. 

 

“What was all that about?” Blaise had done nothing but ask questions for the last twenty minutes.  _ Draco certainly did have a lot to tell him.  _

 

“He moaned because I haven’t written to Mother for a week,” Draco explained, turning to face Blaise and stepping closer to him. 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Oh,” he mimicked. “Now can we stop talking and start doing?”

 

He grabbed Blaise by the collar of his robes and hauled him closer, running his hands around the back of his neck, and joined their lips in a searing kiss. 

 

Blaise fisted Draco’s blond locks and pressed himself closer. Their tongues slid over each other’s before Draco pulled his mouth away and pressed his forehead to his lover’s. 

 

“I love you, Blaise. I think I’ve loved you since the first day we met when we were two,” Draco confessed quietly, his eyes screwed shut. 

 

“Draco, please tell me what’s going on in your head,” Blaise pleaded again. Heartfelt declarations didn’t come from Draco, so something was going on. 

 

“Later,” he replied, kissing Blaise’s temple and moving down the side of his face, circling the outer shell of his ear before peppering kisses down his neck. 

 

Draco pulled the robe from his partner, letting it fall at their feet. He pulled his tie off next, throwing it behind him, before working the buttons open down Blaise’s shirt. Every new bit of exposed skin was kissed or licked, running his hands over every inch. 

 

Bending his head, he encircled one of Blaise’s taut nipples in his mouth, sliding his tongue around it and biting gently. Blaise moaned and arching his back, pressing his chest against Draco’s mouth. 

 

Draco turned his attention to the other nipple before trailing a path down the hard planes of dark skin to the top of Blaise’s trousers. 

 

Standing back up, he whispered, “Imagine Hermione between your legs right now.” Blaise could only moan in response.

 

Draco grabbed Blaise under the chin and forced his head up, sucking the skin on his neck and biting gently, making sure to mark him, feeling him tremble under his touch. 

 

“Imagine her there right now — your cock between her lips, fucking that sweet little mouth. Can you picture it?” 

 

“Ye-Yes,” Blaise stuttered, his cock hardening at Draco's words and the images forming behind his closed lids. 

 

Draco pushed Blaise back the few steps into their bedroom and onto the end of the bed, lifting Blaise’s legs to remove his shoes and socks before spreading his legs and reaching up for his belt buckle, their hard lengths rubbing against each other as he fumbled with the clasp. 

 

Blaise smirked at him as he reached down to help. 

 

“Why are you fumbling like a fourteen-year-old, Draco?” He teased, “Are you nervous?”

 

“Shit, Blaise,” Draco exclaimed, stepping back, running his hands through his hair, a despondent look on his face. “I’m just… I don’t know how to explain it… I just feel…”

 

“Don’t feel, Draco. Don’t think. Just look at me,” Blaise instructed. He knew when Draco had so much going on in his head that it confused the shit out of him until he didn’t know which way was up. Fortunately, he knew what to do. 

 

_ “Amore, guarda me. Sta andando bene. Basta concentrarmi su di me,” _ he whispered softly in Italian, sliding his trousers down his legs. 

 

Draco’s eyes flashed as he followed the movement of Blaise’s trousers. Hearing him speak Italian drove him wild with lust. He reached out to pull the trousers from Blaise's ankles and tossed them aside, once more stepping between his legs and leaning over. 

 

“More,” he breathed into the side of Blaise’s neck. Draco didn’t understand a word of Italian, but Blaise always told him what he’d said after. All Draco knew was that hearing it made him crave Blaise like a drug; it seemed such a personal thing between them. 

 

The sensuous Italian turned his head until his soft lips brushed Draco’s ear and he whispered, _ “Ti amo anche, Draco. Ti amo tanto, alcuni giorni è schiacciante. Ti proteggerò sempre e Hermione. Tu sei la mia vita e da ora in poi non succederà niente di male e finalmente sarai libero e felice.”  _

 

Moving his head to look at his boyfriend, Blaise saw Draco’s eyes were blazing a dark grey, like a raging sea. They brought their lips together in an unexpected slow and tantalising kiss. Blaise moaned, moving his hands into Draco’s hair and pulling him closer. The kiss became rougher and more furious as they nipped at each other’s mouths. 

 

Blaise moved his hands down to remove Draco’s shirt and tie, the blond helping him by leaning up and giving Blaise access to the buttons. Once the garments had been thrown to the side, they moved until they were both sitting, Draco straddling Blaise’s naked lap. 

 

Blaise leant forward, taking one of Draco’s nipples between his teeth and pulling gently. He pinched the opposite nipple in his fingers, making his lover growl. 

 

“No teasing, not now,” Draco demanded, pulling himself away and standing up, pushing Blaise back down onto the mattress. He eyed Blaise with desire; he was so fucking sexy, sprawled out on the bed, arms above his head, pulling all those stomach muscles nice and taut. 

 

Draco moved his gaze down as he removed his trousers and underwear, staring at Blaise’s hard, dark shaft, dripping with precum, bobbing against his stomach. He licked his lips as he flung the trousers and pants over his shoulder and stepped back over to the bed. 

 

Placing both hands on Blaise’s knees, Draco pulled him forward until his arse was at the edge of the bed. His legs were pushed up until his knees almost touched his shoulders and, leaning down, Draco licked a line from his puckered arsehole, across his perineum, and around his balls. 

 

Frenzied kisses were placed up his shaft, the head of his cock sucked into Draco’s mouth, his tongue swirling around the salty essence that had already seeped out. 

 

“Fuck, Draco, that’s feels so good,” Blaise breathed out raggedly, pushing Draco’s head against him.

 

“Mm-hmm,” came the muffled response. Draco continued moving, licking and kissing Blaise’s stomach and chest, slowing down to place wet, open-mouthed kisses on his neck, feeling Blaise’s pulse race. He lifted his head and plunged his tongue into Blaise’s mouth, pulling back out to plunge in again, following the pattern a few times, fucking Blaise’s mouth with his tongue.

 

They broke apart both panting wildly, staring into one another’s eyes conveying what they both needed. 

 

Draco flipped Blaise over and pushed him forward up the bed a little. Blaise rose up onto all fours, and Draco immediately ran his hands over the planes of Blaise’s smooth arse cheeks. 

 

“Merlin, Draco, do it. Stop thinking and get lost in me,” Blaise demanded greedily.

 

Draco didn’t answer. He reached over to the bedside cabinet and retrieved the bottle of lube they used. Smearing some over two fingers and rubbing it around Blaise’s puckered hole, he inserted his index finger slowly, pushing past the tight ring of muscle at the entrance. Blaise groaned loudly at the intrusion, pushing back and squirming when Draco’s little finger brushed the underside of his balls. 

 

“Always so tight, Blaise,” Draco cried passionately.

 

“More,” Blaise gritted out through clenched teeth. He needed more, to feel more, so much fucking more. He wanted Draco’s cock inside him. 

 

Again, Draco didn’t answer but felt Blaise jump as he inserted a second finger into his boyfriend’s tight passage, giving him a moment to adapt, before moving his fingers in and out, up and down in a scissoring move, and loosening him up. 

 

Blaise writhed beneath him as Draco slid his other hand around Blaise’s waist and fisted his cock, pumping it in time with his fingers as they plunged in and out of his arse. 

 

“You-you, Dra-Draco,” Blaise managed to stutter out at the onslaught of his lover's attack. “I need to feel you inside me.”

 

“Move forward,” Draco said in an authoritative tone, moving his fingers out of Blaise’s passage and releasing the grip he had around his cock. 

 

Draco knelt on the bed, moving his legs to either side of Blaise’s body, and hovering above him. He then spread some lube down his own shaft before guiding Blaise slowly down onto his larger than average manhood. 

 

They both moaned loudly, Draco burying his face into the side of Blaise's neck as he pulled him further down his hard shaft. Neither wizard moved for a second until Blaise used his thigh muscles to lift himself off Draco’s rock hard erection and impale himself back down. 

 

“Fuck, Blaise, you’re so tight, so good,” Draco hissed into his ear, grabbing onto his hips and guiding him up and down his length. 

 

They were both panting, their thrusts getting more forceful as Draco reached around with one arm to continue wanking Blaise off. 

 

“Yes, Draco,” Blaise growled in surprise. 

 

“Talk to me,” Blaise drawled seductively, the Italian accent more pronounced as he felt Draco pound into him harder. “Talk dirty, Draco. Tell me what else Hermione might be doing if she were here with us right now.” Draco surged harder into him at the mention of her name. 

 

“Me pumping into your tight arse while you fuck the Gryffindor’s luscious mouth. Can you see her bent in front of you, Blaise? Her arse swaying as she licks and sucks your cock. Coming into her hot mouth as I thrust hard and come in your fucking arse. Would you like that, Blaise?” Draco was half out of his mind with lust at the image in his mind. He continued to pump his length into his boyfriend, feeling his balls begin to tighten. He fisted Blaise’s cock in time with his thrusts, and just as forcefully. 

 

“God, Draco, I love you fucking me,” Blaise panted. 

 

Both moaning, Draco moved his thumb over the head of Blaise’s erection and smeared the leaking come down his length, making his fist squelch as he pumped harder. 

 

“Mmm... oh, fuck, Draco I’m going to come,” Blaise cried out. Draco was thrusting his cock so hard, Blaise saw stars as he came, squirting his seed across Draco's fingers and down onto the bed. 

 

Draco pushed hard three more times before grunting, filling Blaise with his offering. 

 

Both wizards fell forward, Blaise moaning at landing in the mess he had made, utterly spent and breathing raggedly. Draco still had his softening cock inside Blaise, too wiped out to move.  

 

Eventually, Blaise shifted to grab his wand and cast a  _ Scourgify  _ on them both. He then settled himself until his back was pressed against Draco’s chest, a pale arm encircling his waist. They lay there for a few minutes before Blaise broke the silence. 

 

“You know I love you too, Draco. Always have, always will,” he whispered. 

 

“I know.” 

 

“So, what did Potter have to say? I have a right to know, especially if it’s about Hermione.”

 

Sighing, and lifting his head off the soft pillow, Draco leaned up on one arm and looked down at Blaise. 

 

“We may have more of a problem with the Weasley bitch than we thought.”

  
  


~•~•~•~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian Translation…
> 
> “Amore, guarda me. Sta andando bene. Basta concentrarmi su di me,”
> 
> “Love, look at me. It's going to be fine. Just concentrate on me,”
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> “Ti amo anche, Draco. Ti amo tanto, alcuni giorni è schiacciante. Ti proteggerò sempre e Hermione. Tu sei la mia vita e da ora in poi non succederà niente di male e finalmente sarai libero e felice.”
> 
>  
> 
> "I love you too, Draco. I love you so much, some days it's overwhelming. I'll always protect you and Hermione. You are my life and from now on nothing bad will happen and finally you will be free and happy. "


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter does jump around a little and it’s a bit of a filler but it leads nicely into next week’s. Enjoy x

This Life 

Chapter Sixteen 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione waited outside Headmistress McGonagall's office after classes had ended for their usual Friday afternoon tea and catch-up. The old witch was currently in a meeting but had asked her to wait. 

 

The Head Girl sat down on a bench across from the familiar door and pulled a book from her bag to keep her occupied while she waited. But, with so much going on in her head, she found it hard to concentrate on the words in front of her. 

 

Sighing loudly, she closed the book, placed it back in her bag and leaned her head against the cold stone wall. These past couple of weeks had gone quickly for her. Ever since clearing the air with her two Slytherin roommates, there had been an obvious turn in their relationship. 

 

Rather than the fraught atmosphere that had clouded their shared common room since the start of term, it was now more relaxed. She had spent nearly every night with Draco and Blaise, studying or just spending time sitting around the fire, reading and talking together. 

 

They walked her to the Great Hall for breakfast every morning and had even started escorting her to the Gryffindor table on the days she didn’t sit with them. Blaise and Hermione had even spent lunch at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables sporadically throughout the week, having discussed McGonagall’s house unity plan and deciding it would be a good idea as heads to spend time at each table. 

 

Silence had descended the afternoon they placed themselves in the middle of the Hufflepuff table and carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. They hadn’t even told Draco, and the look of surprise across his cold, arrogant face had them both giggling like first years until they’d watched him saunter over, taking a seat opposite. 

 

Students had taken note and now, at breakfast and lunch, those with friends in other houses would go and sit with them. There seemed to be a marked change within the Great Hall, and the castle itself. Once people had settled back in and had gotten used to the depleted numbers, missing friends and professors, the atmosphere had relaxed. The tension that had been lurking there was slowly dissipating with each new day. 

 

People were starting to move forward as best they could. 

 

Hermione had to admit to herself that she’d been shocked by Draco and Blaise these past days. There hadn’t been a crossed word between the three of them once and, since she shared every class with either one or both of them, she found she’d had an escort to each classroom throughout the day. 

 

She’d felt a lot calmer this week, like she could finally take a breath and begin to let go a little, and she was starting to suspect that her roommates had something to do with that. She found she was even getting used to spending time with Draco by herself. Blaise had covered a patrol for one of the prefects, leaving her and the blond alone; they’d finished their Ancient Runes homework together and migrated over to the more comfortable seating. Hermione had stretched out on the sofa while Draco took the armchair facing her, the conversation easy and amicable. When Blaise returned a few hours later, he’d walked in on a lively debate about some potion or other. 

 

“I’m telling you, Granger, the side effects are so dangerous I wouldn’t even  _ consider _ using it. It’s definitely a big risk,” Draco spoke with that pompous, know-it-all look on his face that Blaise found a turn on. When his boyfriend got passionate about something it showed in his bright grey eyes, and he was enjoying himself playfully arguing with Hermione. Blaise watched her indignation at Draco’s response as she straightened her back, glaring at the blond in front of her. 

 

“You’re completely wrong, Draco...”

 

He rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen. They were so involved in their conversation they hadn’t even heard him come in. He poured himself some juice and leaned against the counter, listening. At this stage, Blaise was just happy that they’d all been getting along. Hermione seemed to have moved past the awkwardness of finding out how they both felt about her, and he could see she was really trying to be true to her word about getting to know him and Draco. 

 

But, despite all the positives, Blaise was still worried about what Draco had told him the day they’d shagged each other after breakfast. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

_ “What do you mean, we’ve got more of a problem with the Weasley bitch than we thought?” Blaise asked, sitting up next to Draco in their bed, slightly panicked by the worried look on Draco’s face.  _

 

_ Draco copied his partner, sitting up and facing him while he explained what Potter had told him at breakfast that morning.  _

 

_ “Apparently, according to Potter, there has always been animosity towards Hermione from Weaslette.” _

 

_ “I know that, Draco. We've both seen it over the years, haven’t we? So what's changed now to have Potter so worried?” _

 

_ “He's finished with her. Dumped her ginger arse right before I found him stumbling around the Quidditch pitch completely pissed.” _

 

_ “Okay, but I still don't understand what this has to do with Hermione.” _

 

_ “According to Potter, the girl is unhinged. She thinks Harry and Hermione are having an affair behind her back. She vowed to ‘take revenge’ apparently, and not even Weasel can talk her round. From what I can read between the lines of what he was saying, there’s always been an issue with Weaselette — even her own family know that she isn’t right in the head.” _

 

_ “Fuck!” _

 

_ “Exactly. That’s why I insisted we escort Hermione around. If not us, then Potter or Weasel. Yeah, I know, even him. Hermione isn’t taking it seriously, but I am.” _

 

They’d vowed right then to never let Hermione be by herself anywhere around the castle until they could deal with Ginny. 

 

_ ~•~•~•~ _

 

“Draco, have you noticed anything weird about Hermione recently?” 

 

Blaise and Draco were completing homework at the large table in their common room, Hermione was off with Harry and Ron watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice. 

 

“In what way, Blaise?” Draco asked, his brows furrowed, waiting to hear what the problem with their girl was. As far as Draco was concerned, things had been fine the last couple of weeks. If there was an issue, though, he wanted to know. 

 

“The other day at the lake. It was so hot and I offered to help take her cardigan off but she almost freaked, tugging on the sleeves, and moving away from me. You didn’t notice?” 

 

Draco thought for a moment, trying to recall the event. “I didn’t. But now that you mention it, when I caught her dashing out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel a couple of mornings ago, she froze. She seemed to wrap her arms around herself and back away to her room. She seemed pretty shocked to see me and tried to escape immediately. I mean, I thought it was odd but… why? What do you think is going on?”

 

“I don’t know, but I’ve seen her scratching at her arm quite a bit. She does it subconsciously. Do you think she got hurt at some stage during the war and is embarrassed about a scar or something?”

 

Draco’s heart dropped thinking of his own disgusting scar. 

 

“Well, whatever it is, it can’t be any worse than mine, can it?”

 

Blaise closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Don’t go there, Draco, not now.” He reached for his lover, his hand stroking along the nape of Draco’s neck, a comforting gesture that seemed to calm him. 

 

“No, you’re right, that was silly. Ignore me.” Draco smiled half-heartedly. 

 

“I suggest we try to find out what’s wrong with Hermione though,” Blaise added quietly. Both boys were silent then, thinking about what could be wrong. 

 

Was it that she didn’t want either of them to see her in a state of undress? Or didn’t want them touching her? She hadn’t seemed bothered by Draco guiding her from lesson to lesson with his hand at the small of her back, or Blaise moving stray curls over her shoulder as she concentrated on homework, her head bent over the desk. 

 

“I have an idea.” Draco sighed, thinking of the perfect thing to make her comfortable enough to tell them both. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

“You want to  _ what?” _ Hermione asked her roommates incredulously. 

 

“You heard us, Hermione,” Draco scolded her lightheartedly You’ve spent the last two nights with Potter and Weasel so we’d like to commandeer an evening of your time.”

 

Hermione giggled as he bowed before her, his arm outstretched. She liked this playful version of Draco and she  _ had _ been spending time with Harry and Ron the last two evenings, watching them practice Quidditch. They always called her their good luck charm and with these — McGonagall inspired — exhibition matches coming up, they needed to train. Thankfully Ginny hadn’t been invited to play as it was just the returning seventh — now eighth year — players involved. But, because of this, Hermione hadn’t seen much of her flirtatious roommates, except in class and the Great Hall. 

 

“But I know what an evening of drinking firewhisky involves with you two.”

 

“We promise to be on our best behaviour, Miss Granger,” Draco informed her in his most aristocratic tone, standing back up with a mischievous little grin on his lips. 

 

Blaise snickered from the sofa and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She was fighting a losing battle with these sneaky snakes and, really, how could she resist Draco when he was being so damned charming? She decided to indulge the pair, making sure she sat on one of the armchairs this time so neither could try and maul her — although she’d thought that this time she wouldn’t mind as much. 

 

After what they’d done for her birthday the previous Saturday, Hermione had definitely softened towards the pair. They’d spoiled her with a full English breakfast — brought to her in bed — followed by gifts they’d bought; an extravagant and rare phoenix feather quill, a first edition of her favourite book — Hogwarts: A History — and a decadent box of the finest dark chocolate from her favourite chocolatier in Paris. How they’d known about that she’d never know, and Draco had just cheekily winked when she asked. After spending time with Harry and Ron in the afternoon, she had returned to her dorm to be greeted by a lavishly set table and her favourite three courses from the Italian restaurant she and her parents would frequent. She had been so spoiled, telling both wizards it was too much, but their joint reply — whilst not even looking up from their Tiramisu — cut her off.

 

“Get used to having rich friends, Granger.” 

 

She had no response to that.

 

Her small crush on Blaise had been growing every day, her belly fluttering when she caught his smouldering stares with those deep, fathomless brown eyes of his. As for the blond in the room, Hermione was still shocked by his behaviour. The apology at the lake at the beginning of term had really changed things for her. She still thought about his words most days, and the way he had been treating her since then had been nothing but courteous. 

 

Hermione recognised that her feelings for Draco had changed exponentially over the last few weeks. Gone were the terrified thoughts of  _ he wants to hurt me  _ or _ he wants to mock me.  _ She now found herself thinking,  _ good Godric, I can’t believe how sweet he can be  _ or,  _ Merlin, that man is fine.  _ She’d even dreamed of the time she had caught them in the shower together, her own traitorous body responding in sleep to the unconscious images. Hermione had woken up hot and most definitely bothered on a couple of separate mornings recently and she found that she didn’t actually mind. Harry had laughed when she had confided in him, the  _ I told you so  _ look plastered across his smug face. 

 

Still, she had to be careful of her growing feelings towards the wizards. Did she really want to be part of a three-way relationship? Was she strong enough to go public with it and have the wizarding world — the world she still tried so hard to fit into — shun her for it? 

 

“Okay then,” she acquiesced, grabbing her bag and leading the two from their dorm down to breakfast. “Tonight alright for you both? It’s Friday, after all.”

 

“Fine by us, Hermione,” Blaise replied to the back of her head, sharing a smirk with his boyfriend. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

“Truth or dare? Are you two twelve, for Godric's sake?” Hermione declared drunkenly. 

 

The three of them were once again ensconced in their common room, a quarter of a bottle of firewhisky sitting between them as they formed a small circle in front of the fire, their knees touching. 

 

“Why not?” Draco grinned wickedly. “It’ll be fun. We could end up skinny dipping in the Black Lake, if you take a dare.”  

 

Hermione threw her head back in laughter while Blaise snickered to her left. 

 

“As if that would ever happen, Draco. I don't want a Grindylow swimming up my who-ha.” Hermione shrieked in amusement as Blaise fell forward, unable to control his guffaws. 

 

“You-your  _ what?” _ Draco laughed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. 

 

Hermione was going to collapse if she didn’t breathe soon, her reply unintelligible as she laughed hysterically, gasping for breath. All she’d done all night was laugh, having not realised just how funny Draco and Blaise could be with their naughty little quips and jibes. She found herself joining in on the merriment, and really enjoying herself. 

 

“Ah, sod it,” Hermione squealed, falling over. “Why the hell not? Let’s play!” 

 

Once the three had managed to contain their giggles, the atmosphere turned a little more serious. Draco and Blaise sat up straighter, their eyes glued to Hermione, who suddenly felt nervous tension at their intense stares. 

 

Now they’d gotten her relaxed and comfortable, Draco was going to go in for the kill — no holding back. A true snake — biding his time, ready to strike.

 

“Okay, Granger. Truth or dare?”

 

Hermione swallowed at the sudden change in their demeanour, unsure if they were playing with her, so she decided to stay safe and pick a truth — or end up losing her clothes at the edge of the Black Lake. 

 

“Right, truth it is then.” Draco took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and looking directly into her slightly worried eyes. 

 

“Easy, Draco,” Blaise whispered, placing a reassuring hand on his partner’s thigh, squeezing gently. 

 

“Hermione, why do you always wear long sleeves? What are you hiding?” 

 

Hermione’s breath froze in her throat, her eyes widening in panic as she subconsciously pulled at the sleeves of her top — which didn’t go unnoticed by the two wizards. Draco’s eyes narrowing on the movement. 

 

“If you’ve been hurt, Hermione, you can tell us you know.” Blaise spoke quietly, not wanting to frighten her. 

 

Hermione’s head was swimming, her breathing increasing as she felt that all-too-familiar tightening in her chest. Mouth dry and eyes on the brink of tears, she stood suddenly, swaying from the effects of the alcohol, her ears ringing with panic. This was the real reason she couldn’t be with them — they couldn’t see it, she wouldn’t let them. She was disgusted with the daily reminder of what was emblazoned on her arm. If Draco saw, surely he’d go right back to how he’d been with her all through their previous years. He wouldn’t want to be a with a  _ filthy Mudblood!  _

 

_ “ _ Don’t leave, Hermione, stay and talk to us. Whatever it is, we can work through it together,” Blaise assured her, standing himself, and placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. 

 

Hermione flinched at the contact and quickly shoved his hands away from her.

 

“Just… just leave me alone. It’s nothing to do with either of you,” Hermione whimpered, the tears falling freely down her cheeks. 

 

Draco looked up, frozen from his position on the floor. This wasn’t going how he thought it would. He’d terrified her  _ again.  _ Seeing the tear tracks on her face, he hung his head in shame, unable to form words, unable to comfort her the way Blaise could. 

 

But, this time, Blaise looked down to his partner begging for his help. Hermione moved away, wiping furiously at her wet cheeks, taking backwards steps to her room. 

 

“Don’t follow me,” she shouted as Blaise went to move towards her. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Turning and sprinting for her room, he flinched at the slam of her door. 

 

“Thanks for the help there, Draco. Merlin, what do we do now?” He shouted at his still prone boyfriend. 

 

“I-I don’t know,” Draco stuttered. He was in shock at Hermione’s response. There was definitely something amiss — and he wanted to know what it was so he could help her — but, at the same time, he was furious with himself. He’d thought things between them had changed lately and that she’d trust them with whatever was wrong with her. How stupid of him to think she would heal this quickly. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

“So you definitely heard them talking about it?” 

 

“Yes, we followed them the other night to the library and hid around one of the bookshelves. They were planning how they could get Hermione to talk to them about it.”

 

“So they don’t know?”

 

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

 

“And you’re sure they both want to be with her? Because I don’t get it. Draco and Blaise both?”

 

“Yes, Ginny. We thought you knew the boys were together and were planning to make Granger a part of their perverted relationship.” Lavender sighed dramatically, fingering one of her blonde curls as she watched the fury erupt across Ginny’s face.

 

“Well no, actually, I didn’t know!” Ginny screeched at her two cohorts, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. There was no love lost between the three girls and the current Head Girl, but Parvati in particular was beginning to worry about her redheaded friend’s current state of mind. Some of the things she had been saying were beginning to scare the quiet Gryffindor. 

 

“So not only do I have to worry about the bitch stealing Harry and Blaise from me, but now I have to contend with that piece of shit Malfoy as well? Well…” Ginny smirked, pacing in front of her friends, “we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

  
  
  



	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Talk of suicide in this chapter!

 

This Life

Chapter Seventeen

~•~•~•~

 

Looking up from buttering her morning toast, Hermione caught the gaze of Draco across the room, grimacing at him before lowering her head back down. She hadn’t spoken to either of them in two days, doing her best to ignore both and stay out of their way. 

 

“Trouble in paradise, Hermione?” Harry whispered into her ear. 

 

“No, not at all.”

 

“Really? Why haven’t you spent any time with them then? You seem to be going out of your way to ignore them both.”

 

“Just leave it, Harry. I’m not in the mood,” Hermione huffed, biting into her breakfast, narrowing her eyes at her best friend. 

 

“Okay, okay,” he answered, holding his hands up in defeat. 

 

Harry was worried. He thought she’d been doing so much better recently; something had obviously occurred between Hermione and her Slytherin roommates to make her recoil from their company. He sighed, turning to Ron, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with her’ way, and picking up the worried look on Ron’s face as well. 

 

The youngest male Weasley had made up with Hermione after shouting at her the morning he’d found her sitting with the Slytherins; it was impossible for the pair to stay too mad at each other for long. They’d all been through far too much for petty arguments.

 

Hermione finished her toast and stood to leave, telling her friends she was off to class and ordering them both not to follow her — she was fed up being chaperoned everywhere. Feeling the stares coming from across the Great Hall, she kept her head down as she walked quickly before bumping into someone. Looking up, she stared into the venomous face of Ginny Weasley. 

 

_ Oh no!  _ Hermione didn’t need this on top of everything else right now.

 

“Just the filthy little Mudblood I wanted to see,” Ginny sneered, her lip curling in disgust at having Hermione so close to her. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, moving to step around Ginny but a sudden twinge in her left arm stopped her.

 

“Let go of me, Ginerva.” Hermione demanded in a tight voice, trying to pull her arm out of Ginny’s tight grip. She didn’t like the look in her eyes.

 

“I don’t think so. We have things to discuss, don’t you think so,  _ Hermione?”  _

 

“No, actually, I don’t have  _ anything  _ I want to talk to  _ you _ about.” Hermione tugged her arm again, trying to free herself from the upset Gryffindor but Ginny held her tighter.

 

“Good. Then I’ll talk and you can listen for once.” The redhead smirked. “I’m surprised actually. Don’t you normally have  _ everything  _ to say? Always wanting to give  _ your _ opinion, whether it’s wanted or not?”

 

Silence had descended in the Great Hall as everyone turned to watch the confrontation. Harry, Ron, Draco, and Blaise were already out of their seats and heading towards the two witches. 

 

“Do you think you can just stroll around here and take everything from me?”

 

“Ginny—“

 

“NO! I’m not listening to your excuses anymore. You took Harry from me, Blaise, my family. You have  _ everything  _ you’ve ever wanted and I have nothing. Everyone loves you; they all think you’re so fucking  _ wonderful.  _ I wonder how your precious boyfriends would feel if they knew what you really are.” 

 

“Blaise? My boyfriends? What are you going on about?” Hermione winced as Ginny’s nails dug into the hidden scar beneath her school shirt. Her heart was thumping against her chest, her ears ringing with panic. Bile was rising in Hermione’s throat at the sheer look of madness on Ginny’s face. 

 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, you filthy whore! I know you’ve been fucking Harry. All that time together alone on the run when my brother finally got bored enough to leave the pair of you. You’ve always wanted Harry and you took the opportunity to take him from me—” Ginny was ranting “—and when he… when I moved onto Blaise, you swooped in and took him from me as well. I  _ hate  _ you, Hermione. You don’t belong in our world, you never did. I may be poor but at least my blood is pure. You’re nothing but a cheap little tart, trying to align yourself with the popular boys so you’ll feel more accepted. Well… you’re not. No one wants you here.” 

 

As Harry and Ron approached Ginny from behind, she suddenly grabbed the cuff of Hermione’s sleeve. She ripped the material with fury, exposing the horribly maimed scarlet lettering carved into Hermione’s fair skin by Bellatrix Lestrange when the trio were taken hostage during the war.

 

Mudblood.

 

Collective gasps were heard around the Hall as Hermione’s arm was bared for all who could see it. She saw Draco freeze in his movements as she turned her frightened, panicked eyes to him. He was staring at her injury, his face a furious mask as tears began to flow down her face. 

 

“And now everyone knows, Hermione,” Ginny continued, holding Hermione’s arm so she couldn’t pull it from her grasp and hide the foul mark. “Bellatrix may have been crazy but at least she had the good sense to brand you for what you are… filthy… a Mudblood… an abomination of magic.”

 

Hermione wasn’t aware of Ginny being grabbed and pulled away by Harry and Ron, or the crazy girl’s screams. Hermione could only focus on Draco. He slowly lifted his head from her arm to her face — a look of revulsion across his own — before he wrenched himself from Blaise’s grip and fled from the Great Hall. 

 

Hermione fell to her knees, Blaise’s arms around her in a second as she cried. Clutching at his shirt, she buried her face into the side of his neck, wedging her mangled arm between their bodies so no one else could see. 

 

“Mr Zabini, please take Miss Granger back to your dorm. I’ll be along shortly to see her,” the stern voice of Headmistress McGonagall rang out. Blaise nodded as he stood, his arms still wrapped around Hermione. He immediately led her from the tense scene, Ginny still ranting in the background. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Once Blaise had guided them back to their empty dorm, Hermione instantly pulled away and headed for her room. 

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Don’t, Blaise. Just… don’t,” she whispered brokenly, shutting her door quietly. 

 

He collapsed onto the sofa, his head in his hands, at a complete loss. What could he do? He never imagined what Hermione was hiding was as bad as…  _ that _ . 

 

He had no idea how long he sat there before moving toward Hermione’s room. Bracing himself before turning the handle, he entered without knocking, knowing if he did she’d only tell him to go away. The room was dark — she’d shut the curtains — but he could make her out, curled into a ball on the bed, sobbing and shaking. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he quietly removed his shoes and lay down behind her, his arm circling her waist, pulling her back into his embrace. 

 

“Don’t cry, Hermione,” he whispered into her ear, trying to calm her. “It doesn’t mean anything; no one will care about it.” His other hand slid underneath her waist and he turned her into him, cradling her against his chest. 

 

“Ev-everyone saw. They-they all know what I-I am,” she stuttered through her sobs. 

 

“What? A strong, fierce, highly intelligent, beautiful witch who helped defeat the darkest wizard of all time. Yes, people know that about you. People also know you are Muggle-born. That on your arm, it’s just a word, Hermione. It doesn’t mean anything,” he repeated again. 

 

“Dr-Draco saw and he-he ran.”

 

Blaise didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know  _ why  _ Draco had run from the Great Hall, or where he had run to. 

 

“I don’t think it’s for the reasons you’re thinking, Hermione.”

 

“Ye-yes, it is. He saw, he-he thinks I’m a filthy—“

 

“No, Hermione!” Blaise stopped her. “He doesn’t think that and you know it. I told you he didn’t mean any of the things he has previously said about you and I meant it.” He was about to continue when a loud banging began on their front door. 

 

“HERMIONE! HERMIONE, OPEN THE DOOR! ZABINI, LET ME IN!” 

 

Harry.

 

~•~•~~

 

“Mr Potter, is there a reason you are banging on the door so incessantly?” The portrait of Snape drawled.

 

“Not now, Snape. I need to see Hermione,” Harry fired back angrily. He didn’t need to be scolded by his ex-professor right now.

 

“I suggest you calm down and wait for someone to answer or I’ll have to insist you leave. I doubt your friend needs you screaming like a banshee at this moment.”

 

“Whatever, Snape,” The irate wizard replied, deflating a little at the portrait’s words. He wouldn’t admit it but Snape was right. Hermione didn’t need to hear him shouting and screaming outside her door. He’d wait a minute before knocking again.

 

~•~•~•~

 

“I don’t want to see anyone, Blaise…  _ please.”  _ She moved in closer to the Italian, her face pressed against his chest, sobs wracking her tiny frame. 

 

“I’ll get rid of him, don’t worry,” he whispered, prying her fingers away from his shirt and laying her back onto her pillow. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

 

Hermione curled herself back into the fetal position when she heard her door close gently, silent tears rolling across her face and into her hair. She could hear Harry’s raised voice and Blaise replying calmly, asking him to lower his voice. He sounded angry, angrier than she’d heard him in a long time. She couldn’t face him, he was her best friend and the thought of seeing anyone but Blaise right now was making her feel sick and anxious.

 

She couldn’t actually figure out what she was more upset about — the fact that Ginny had exposed to everyone the thing she hated most about herself, or that Draco had taken one look at her mangled arm and run, leaving Blaise to stay and comfort her. Hermione was surprised Blaise hadn’t been in a rush to go after his boyfriend; he seemed more concerned with getting her away from the situation. 

 

It hurt to try to fathom it all; her heart felt heavy in her chest and the tears came harder as she heard him re-enter her room. 

 

Once again, Blaise lay down behind her, sliding his hand back around her waist, and pulling Hermione back into his warm chest. 

 

“He’ll be back tomorrow, but McGonagall will be by later to see you. She’s suspended Ginny for a week and personally escorted her back to her home.” Blaise felt Hermione flinch at the girl’s name and instantly tightened his hold on her. “She can’t hurt you, Hermione. Not again, not ever. Please stop crying, sweetheart.” 

 

“I-I… I don’t want to be here anymore,” Hermione revealed to him through her sobs. 

 

“You don’t have to worry, she isn’t going to hurt you,” he repeated gently. “There’s no need for you to leave Hogwarts.”

 

Hermione’s tears came faster as she tried to control her breathing so she could tell him exactly what was on her mind. She dipped her head down until her chin was almost touching her chest and brought her knees up further, trying to make herself as small as possible before she spoke. 

 

“I don’t mean Hogwarts… I-I mean…  _ anywhere…  _ I don’t want to be here anymore. Everyone would be better off without me. I’m… worthless… disgusting… I’m nothing.” 

 

Blaise took a second to process her words, his blood running cold at the implication as he realised  _ exactly  _ what she meant. 

 

“Oh, Merlin! No, Hermione. No.” He leaned back to look into her eyes, stunned at her confession, his heart pounding with sheer panic. They couldn’t be without her, they needed her. Potter needed her, even Weasley. The fucking wizarding world needed its brightest star. But, more than anything, Draco needed her. Sliding one hand under her shoulders and the other tightening around her waist, Blaise pulled her around, kissing the top of her head. “No. Never say that, Hermione,  _ never.  _ You can’t honestly think that. If Draco heard—“

 

“Draco?” She scoffed, “Draco has proved he doesn’t care.” Her voice cracked as she pulled back slightly to look into Blaise’s eyes, noticing his own tears at her words. “You saw how fast he ran away from me. He’s disgusted by me, just like Ginny is… just-just like the wizarding world is. No one wants me here, no one wants me in the Muggle world. I… I’m on my own. I’m surprised you can even bare to touch me right now.”

 

“Never, Hermione. You’re not alone. So many people care for you and  _ I know  _ Draco is at the top of that list. He cares for you so much. He… Look, I don’t know why he ran, but…” Blaise swallowed heavily, “he’ll be back. He was just in shock, that’s all. He cares  _ so  _ much for you, more than you know.” He was quiet for a moment, letting his reassuring words sink in. “Tell me why you believe these things Hermione, please. Talk to me, you can tell me.” He’d never begged in his life, but this? This was worse than anything he had ever imagined, having no idea just how far she had spiralled over the years. 

 

She buried her head back against his chest, unable to look at the desolate expression on his face anymore. 

 

“I’ve never fit in, you know? Not anywhere.” Blaise was hardly breathing as she began her tale, speaking quietly while he gently stroked his hand over her curls, trying to offer comfort while she spoke. “I was always the weird kid at school, the one who hid in corners with books. Bushy-haired and buck-toothed. All the other children  would call me names and pick on me — even the teachers thought I was strange. My magic started early from what my parents told me. They used to hide biscuits and sweets in the top cupboard of our kitchen and I would continually levitate them down to me. They never said anything but they were worried. When I was nine they had to pull me out of school after I accidentally threw a fellow classmate across the room without actually touching her.” Hermione took a breath, recalling that incident so clearly. “Kerry Coleman she was called. She hit her head pretty badly and had to be taken to hospital but she… she…”

 

“Go on, let it out, tell me,” Blaise encouraged softly, feeling her body shaking against him. 

 

“She had me backed into a corner, threatening to destroy my book — the one my grandmother had given me before she passed away. Her friends were laughing along behind her and she went to grab the book. The next thing I knew, she was flying across the classroom and smacked into the wall. It was decided between my parents and the headmaster that I would be removed. My mum had me home-schooled from then on, until the day before my eleventh birthday when Professor McGonagall showed up at our door. I think my parents were relieved more than anything else to finally have an explanation for all the weird goings-on.”

 

“And your parents, you’re close to them?” 

 

“Very. They loved me unconditionally, always told me I was special. They tried for many years to have a baby and then I came along. Even with the accidental magic, they took it in their stride, convinced I was sent to them specially. I never went without anything. I’m a daddy’s girl really.” She smiled against Blaise’s shirt as happier memories flooded her mind. “He taught me about music and the bands he liked to listen to. We went to football games and watched documentaries, and we’d read endless books together. I would bake with my mother and she’d take me on a girls’ days out to art galleries and museums and quaint coffee shops.” She sighed. “They… they were wonderful parents.” 

 

“Were?” Blaise enquired, worried about what she was going to say next. 

 

“Dur-during sixth year, we knew the war was escalating and I feared for their lives. If Vold—” she shivered and gulped, more sobs escaping her throat. “If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had found them, I knew they’d be killed or used to lure me out so I... I… I Obliviated them, gave them new identities, and planted the idea that they’d always wanted to live in Australia.” Blaise couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t know whereabouts they are over there. I hope they are both safe but… but they have no idea they have a daughter anymore. Kingsley sent an Auror to work with the Australian Ministry to try and locate them but I haven’t heard anything.” 

 

The sobs that had quietened returned in full force as she finished her story. 

 

Blaise was dumbstruck. This poor innocent girl had been through so much, stuff he couldn’t even imagine. Draco had been through hell and back the last few years — Blaise was there for him through it all — but now it seemed the girl they loved had suffered so much worse. At least Draco still had both him and his mother through everything. 

 

“Holy fucking hell, Hermione.”

 

“If I ever find them, they’ll hate me for doing this to them. I took away their right to choose… their… freedom. I mentally raped my own parents, Blaise. I’m an awful person.”

 

“No, no, no. Shh. No, you’re not. I can’t even begin to comprehend how hard this was for you, but I think you did the right thing.”

 

“That’s what Pansy, Harry, and Ron said but  _ I _ don’t feel like I did the right thing. I have no parents anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever find them or, even if I did, I don’t know if I’d be able to reverse the damage I’ve done. They’re Muggles; spells work differently on Muggles than on wizards and witches.”

 

“What were their names?”

 

“Helen and Robert Granger. They were dentists, people that looked after teeth in the Muggle world. I changed their names to Monica and Wendell Wilkins. My mother loved to bake and I have dreams that they opened a bakery over there and that they’re happy.”

 

Blaise filed away that information for later use. 

 

“Once they’d gotten over the shock of my status as a witch they were so excited. Finally their daughter had found her place in the world.” Hermione smiled as she remembered the dumbstruck looks on their faces as McGonagall had shown them Diagon Alley for the first time. “Every Christmas and summer holiday they would ask endless questions about Hogwarts, they were enthralled. I never told them anything about the war but they certainly picked up something wasn’t quite right as I got older. The safest thing to do in my mind was to send them away… a decision I regret everyday since I cast the spell.”

 

“Oh, Hermione. I’m so sorry.” Blaise pulled her in harder against his chest, hoping his warmth would stop her shaking. He continued to press soft kisses against her forehead and curls, his hand rubbing down her back. 

 

“I was so excited to start Hogwarts,” she continued after a while. “Here was a whole new world where everything was magic but… but I still had no friends. I tried so hard to fit in and prove I belonged here, despite what people said. Harry and Ron hit it off straight away, but Ron thought I was annoying and bookish. It wasn’t until Halloween when they saved me from the troll that we became friends, and I’m so grateful we did. They’re like my brothers, I guess. Ron’s family became my magical family; they basically adopted me and I love each and every one of them… well… except… well, you know.” 

 

Yes, he did know. The only female Weasley sibling had always been cold and distant, a complete bitch to Hermione over the years. 

 

“Ginny never made it easy for me. She always tried to make me feel like an outsider, like I wasn’t welcome, as much as the rest of the family opened their hearts and home to me. She was always horrible and I thought it was jealousy at first — she being the only girl and having six protective brothers and amazing parents. She must have felt like the attention wasn’t all on her after I turned up. I tried, Blaise. I tried  _ so hard _ to be her friend, but she never gave an inch and she got worse as we got older. And now… now she’s done this to me. She knew, as well… she knew how much I hate what’s here.” 

 

Hermione pulled away, her ripped sleeve hanging loose off her arm as she brought it up between them. 

 

Blaise couldn’t see the damaged skin as clearly in the darkened room but he reached for her, his fingers smoothing over the raised flesh of her scar. She didn’t flinch or recoil, she just sighed as his fingers rubbed gently over the lettering. 

 

“Do you want to talk about this or anything that happened during the war?” He asked tenderly. 

 

“Not right now. I just want to sleep and forget for a while.”

 

“Can I stay?”

 

“Yes, please,” Hermione replied immediately. She felt a lot better after sharing some of her story with Blaise, but Draco and his actions were niggling at the back of her mind. 

 

The room was silent for a few long minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. 

 

“Hermione,” Blaise whispered after a long time. 

 

“Mmm.” She was snuggled against his firm chest, his warmth and musky scent enveloping her into almost slumber. 

 

“Never think that you’re not good enough. You are one of the most loyal, most caring people I know. Your magical ability…  _ fuck _ … you’ve been besting greater wizards and witches since the age of eleven, Hermione. Eleven! You’re a miracle. You’re everything, I swear it. So… please believe me when I say I never  _ ever  _ want to hear those words from your mouth again, alright? Because you’re everything.”

 

“Yes, Blaise,” she agreed half-heartedly, her eyes closing and letting sleep claim her. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Blaise had left Hermione’s bedroom door ajar earlier, and neither of them heard Draco slide down the wall next to it, silent tears falling from his chin as he listened to  _ every  _ word.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter Eighteen

 

This Life

Chapter Eighteen

~•~•~•~

 

Draco wasn't sure how long he sat outside Hermione’s door, his knees pulled up to his chest, head down as he cried over what he’d heard.  _ His _ girl,  _ his _ Hermione. Blaise was wrong. 

 

She was broken and he was going to fix her. 

 

But how to right the wrong he’d committed in the Great Hall by running earlier. He thought for a long time… long after the coldness of the stone floor numbed his backside. Eventually, he stood and stretched, his body aching from the position he’d been in. 

 

Looking through the gap in the door, Draco could see both Hermione and Blaise curled around each other, sound asleep. Creeping in, he removed his shoes and lay down beside her on top of the covers. 

 

Blaise stirred at the movement, looking across Hermione, into the eyes of his obviously distraught boyfriend. 

 

“Where have you been?” He hissed in an accusing tone. 

 

“I’m sorry, Blaise. I’m so sorry.”

 

Blaise sighed. “It doesn’t matter right now. You’re here and that’s all that matters. We need to talk.”

 

“I heard it all,” Draco admitted quietly. “I heard  _ every  _ fucking word.”

 

Blaise nodded before gently turning the sleeping witch between them. He cradled her head into the nook of Draco’s shoulder and softly brushed her curls back. Hermione’s fingers gripped onto Draco’s shirt, her sleep-fuddled voice quietly calling his name as she exhaled, her breath tickling the side of his neck. 

 

“I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m so sorry. I let you down and it will  _ never  _ happen again.” He spoke softly as he curled his arms around her, pulling her closer. 

 

Whether she heard him or not he didn’t care, not anymore. He’d failed her, his own cowardice and shock at seeing her arm making him flee like the recreant he was. But no more. He had to put his issues aside in order to help her now. Hearing her confess to wanting to kill herself broke him more than anything that had ever happened in his own pathetic life. 

 

The thought of losing her made his soul hurt. 

 

“I love you, Hermione. I love you so much and whether you’ll ever return those feelings or not, I have to tell you, and I’ll tell you again when you wake. Sleep, baby, then we’ll talk.” 

 

She sighed again, taking deep, slow breaths. He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him but it didn’t matter because what he had just confessed was true and he  _ would  _ tell her again when she woke up. This is all Draco had ever wanted. Him, Blaise, and Hermione between them, safe, protected, loved. If only the circumstances were different. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione woke up slowly, keeping her eyes shut, smelling Draco’s scent in her mind. She didn’t want reality to come crashing back in so she decided to stay in that place between sleep and consciousness and pretend that Draco really was there, holding her, and not disgusted by her. 

 

Unfortunately life wasn’t that kind and, as her brain woke up, the memories of that morning came flooding back. Ginny… Draco... Blaise looking after her. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay the inevitable, and slowly her eyes opened, coming face to face with the blond on her mind. He was staring at her, his grey eyes dull and sad. 

 

“Hi,” he whispered. 

 

She swallowed, her mouth dry from sleep and the tears she had shed. 

 

“You’re here. Draco? You… you came back?” Hermione couldn’t help the fresh torrent of tears that fell, she was so glad to see him — to know that it wasn’t a dream and he was truly there beside her. 

 

“No, Hermione. Please don’t cry, please,” Draco begged, reaching out and engulfing her in his embrace, her face pressed against his chest. “Please don’t,” he repeated over and over, his arms tightening around her. 

 

“You… you ran again,” she sobbed, clutching at his shirt, her tears wetting the material. 

 

“I know… I know I did and I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.” Draco rocked her gently in his arms, desperate to comfort her. “I didn’t mean to and I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help his own eyes pooling with tears as she broke down. 

 

“Wh-why?” She whimpered. 

 

“Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.” Draco answered after a minute. He rolled her onto her back, one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears as he held himself up with the other. “I’m stupid and selfish and a coward. I couldn’t handle seeing that…  _ mark _ on your arm and I panicked.”

 

“Because you realised what I am, didn’t you? You remembered that I’m just a dirty little Mud…”

 

“No! Gods, no, Hermione. That wasn’t it at all. You’re not  _ any _ of those things you called yourself earlier. You’re  _ not _ disgusting, you’re  _ not _ worthless, you’re  _ not _ nothing.”

 

Her eyes met his in shock. He’d heard her. He’d heard her say those things to Blaise. 

 

“My heart broke hearing you tear yourself down like that… those things you think… about yourself. None of it is true! And… and this…” He reached for her torn sleeve, moving the material aside to take her forearm in his hand, his fingers grazing over the raised flesh of her scar. “Blaise is right. It’s just a word; it’s a word that means nothing… it never has.” 

 

Hermione didn’t know what came over her — the fact that Draco was here, that he was willingly comforting her, or that he was rejecting every negative thing she’d said about herself but, in the next minute, she raised her head and pressed her lips to his. 

 

Draco froze for a second at the sudden contact, then his free hand delved into her curls, cupping the back of her neck, and bringing her closer as their mouths moved together. He couldn’t think of anything except the fact that Hermione was kissing him, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip, the softness of her mouth on his. It was frenzied and raw as her hands pulled his head closer, her body pushing against his own before she shuddered and whimpered, tears falling from her eyes onto their lips before she pushed him away. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Draco, I shouldn’t have done that,” she wailed, turning her head away from him as he fell to the side. Hermione’s arm covered her eyes, her body shaking with sobs. “I’m a mess. I’m such a mess. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why.” 

 

“Hermione,” he called softly, prying her arm from her face, his hand caressing her cheek. 

 

She looked up with tear-filled eyes; he was smiling, the corner of his mouth turned up in that adorable way that she liked so much. It was a real smile, not the fake ones he used for everyone else.

 

“Never be sorry for kissing me. You’re not a mess… you’re…  _ fuck… _ you’re perfection.” Draco lowered his head, pressing his mouth gently back to hers, not moving, just feeling her lips against his own. He leaned back after a moment, pulling her into his arms. “Why don’t you go and have a shower and change, then we can talk.”

 

“Okay,” she told agreed, her fingers pressed to her tingling lips from his kiss. “Where’s Blaise?” Hermione suddenly noticed the absence of the wizard who had — once again — taken care of her.

 

“McGonagall turned up while you were sleeping so he went to speak with her.”

 

“Oh.. I should—” Pulling the covers back, Hermione moved to get up and go speak to the headmistress, until she felt Draco’s hand around her wrist.

 

“Don’t worry about that right now. Go shower and come back here.” Hermione looked into his eyes, the worry and stress obvious in his grey stare. She sighed and nodded. She didn’t really want to deal with anyone right now except the blond before her. He was right, they did need to talk.  

 

“Okay,” Hermione whispered as Draco let her go, watching her walk towards the bathroom with her head down. 

 

He lay back on the bed, sighing loudly, thinking about how he and Blaise could approach this situation. He wanted to help Hermione so badly, to make her see her worth in this world. 

 

The door opened, Blaise coming into the room and sitting down beside his boyfriend. 

 

“What did McGonagall say?” The blond asked, looking over at his lover.

 

“She wants to speak to Hermione but is prepared to leave her until morning. I haven’t told her what Hermione was saying earlier. I think we should be the ones to try talking to her first.”

 

“I agree,” Draco nodded. “I know this is asking a lot but do you think I could speak to her alone, Blaise? I think we need this — the two of us.”

 

“Of course, love. I’ve been saying for a while that you both needed to talk and, as much as I  _ hate  _ to say this, what the Weasley bitch did is probably the catalyst you both needed.” 

 

They heard the shower turn off and Blaise stood, telling Draco he’d bring coffee and then leave them both to talk, but he’d only be in his own room or the living room if they needed him. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Ten minutes later Draco watched Hermione enter the bedroom. He’d never seen anyone look so beaten down before, like she had the weight of the world upon her slumped shoulders. Her curls were still damp, falling loosely around her face, her eyes still slightly red. Pale yellow pajamas made her look cute and comfortable as she made her way over to the desk to light one of her oil diffusers, the smoky, musky scent of sandalwood instantly filling the air. He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she inhaled the calming aroma before coming around the bed and getting back under the covers next to him.

 

“What one is that?” He asked, handing her the mug of coffee Blaise had left for her.

 

“It’s called vetiver. It’s supposed to aid emotional stress, anxiety, and depression.”

 

“Do they work?” He inquired, strangely fascinated by the oils she often had burning away around the dorm. The wizarding world didn’t really have anything like that.

 

“I’m not sure, the smell makes me feel calmer so I suppose so. My mother used to swear by them and they remind me of her.” Even her tone was sad. “What happened with McGonagall?” 

 

“Blaise asked that she come back and see you tomorrow, which she agreed to.”

 

“Where is Blaise?”

 

“He’s outside in the living room. He wanted to give us a chance to talk. He did bring coffee though.” Draco grinned, watching the corners of her mouth lift in a small smile.

 

“I could tell because it’s delicious; your coffee is… acceptable, Draco.” She blew the hot beverage, cooling it slightly before taking another sip.

 

“Oh, thanks, you didn’t say that last time,” he joked. “Didn’t I once tell you that he makes the best coffee? He is Italian after all, it’s what they’re good at.”

 

“That and pizza,” Hermione smiled.

 

“True but I don’t really want to sit here and stereotype Italians right now.”

 

“What do you want to do then?”

 

“I want to talk to you, and I want _ you _ to tell me what happened earlier.”

 

“You know what happened. You were there… in the Great Hall… before you weren’t.” Hermione snapped and then cringed at her words and tone.

 

“I deserved that,” Draco sighed, rubbing his hand across his face.

 

“No, you didn’t, I’m sorry.” Hermione took another sip of the coffee, placed it down on her nightstand, and slid back down the bed to lie on her side. Draco did the same so they were facing each other, the blond reaching across the space between them, taking her hand, and threading his fingers through hers. “I’m sorry I said that, Draco,” she repeated.

 

“I’m sorry I ran, Hermione. As I said earlier, it was nothing to do with you or the way I feel about you. It was like a tidal wave of guilt hitting me when Ginny exposed your arm.”

 

“Guilt?” She asked confused. “Why did you feel guilty? You weren’t the one to put it there.”

 

“I should have done more… I… I should have got you out of there.” Draco’s eyes were downcast as he spoke.

 

“Draco, look at me.” He slowly raised his gaze back to her.

 

“What could you have done? If you’d tried to save me, what would Bellatrix have done to you?”

 

“She…” He sighed in resignation, “she would have killed me.”

 

“ _ Exactly. _ There was nothing you could do.”

 

“There was something. There is a reason I never saw  _ her  _ do that to your arm. I’d called Dobby.”

 

Hermione inhaled sharply, stunned at his words.

 

“You… you called Dobby… to-to save us?”

 

“Yes, I did. When I was summoned to come and identify you all… Merlin, Hermione, it was the  _ worst _ moment of my life. I didn’t know what I’d be facing, and walking into that room… seeing you, Potter, and Weasley… fuck… I couldn’t… there was absolutely no way in the world I was going to give the three of you up to my father and aunt, so I lied. Father knew I was lying… he knew it was you. Even if you hadn’t been there, I still wouldn’t have given up Potter or Weasley.” 

 

The nightmares Draco had over that night still plagued him. Lying here and reliving it all with Hermione was making his chest tighten and ache. He could see it so clearly, the mad cackling of his aunt Bellatrix, his father pressuring him to identify the Golden Trio, his mother's silent tears as she watched the scene unfold before her, the smells, the sounds — it was like he was back there again.

 

Hermione was silent, hardly taking a breath as she waited for him to continue. 

 

“When my father had your friends thrown into the cellar and Bel—” He paused. Taking a deep breath, he soothingly ran his thumb across the back of her hand. “When  _ she  _ cursed you… I thought I was going to be sick… I… well, I went for my wand but Mother grabbed me and stopped me. I was panicking… I didn’t know what to do. Neither my aunt or my father were turned towards us so I ran. I ran from the room to the kitchen. I summoned my elf, Tipsy, and commanded him to find Dobby and send him to help you. After I dry-heaved into the sink, Tipsy came back saying he’d found him so I ran back. Dobby was unscrewing the chandelier at that point and well… you know the rest. That’s why I never saw  _ her  _ slice that into your arm.” 

 

Hermione’s eyes were wide with astonishment as he finished speaking, her brows furrowing slightly.

 

“Harry said it was Aberforth Dumbledore that sent Dobby to rescue us. He used the enchanted mirror while he and Ron were in your dungeon.”

 

“It was me, Hermione. Dobby was my personal elf and he still remained loyal to me after Potter freed him, even though I couldn’t summon him any more. That’s why I asked Tipsy to find him. I told Tipsy to tell him Harry Potter was at the Manor and needed his help immediately. Tipsy returned while I was being sick to tell me he’d found him, that’s when I ran back to the drawing room.”

 

“I don’t know what to say, Draco. I… I had no idea.”

 

“Well,” he swallowed nervously, “while we’re on the truth train, I might as well tell you that, after you all escaped, I was tortured… by… by my own father. He knew I had something to do with it the moment Dobby turned up. He didn’t tell Bella; he waited until later that evening after he, himself, had been punished by the Dark Lord. He took his anger out on me.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered, already knowing about Draco’s torture from Blaise but not wanting to admit it just then. He needed to talk, to let it all out. It wasn’t the time. She moved closer to him, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a moment.

 

“You don’t have to be sorry, It’s not your fault.”

 

“It’s not yours either, Draco. None of this is your fault.  _ You _ aren’t the reason we were captured;  _ you _ aren’t responsible for what Bellatrix did to me. You tried your best to help me. Your mother was right to hold you back. If… if your aunt had seen, she would have killed us both and you know it. You don’t have to feel guilty about this, and you certainly are  _ not  _ a coward,” Hermione told him sincerely, meaning every word. 

 

Draco sighed, turning his head to bury his nose into her curls, breathing in her scent. “I can’t help the way I feel about the situation. I already felt so responsible for what happened to you and now… to know you have that reminder—” 

 

“Stop it, Draco, please,” Hermione begged him, her tears soaking through his shirt as she sobbed into his chest. 

 

“And then,” he continued, his voice croaky, hardly able to get the words out, “I heard you tell Blaise that you didn’t want to be here anymore… that… that you want to… kill yourself because you feel like you’ve never fit in anywhere… that you’ve been bullied your entire life. My heart was breaking listening to you outside that door earlier, and that’s my fault as well. The way I’ve treated you over the years… it’s… it’s… gods, Hermione, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

 

“Please don’t. I can’t… I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“We  _ have to _ , Hermione. We have to talk about it. Tell me… tell me you won’t… I… fuck… I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, to know you would... Merlin… I can’t think about you not being here.” 

 

Draco was crying now. 

 

A Malfoy… crying. 

 

If his father could see him now, but he didn’t care. For once in his life he was allowing his emotions to guide him completely. His hold on the witch in his arms tightened, terrified to let go for fear of losing her forever. 

 

Hermione slid her arm around his waist, her body wracked with sobs, shaking against him. This was so raw — his emotions,  _ hers _ , the panic, the worry, the guilt… it was all too much. They laid pressed against one another, both crying uncontrollably.

 

After a few minutes Draco pulled back to look into her puffy, bloodshot eyes, the anguish clear on her face.

 

“I love you, Hermione. I’ve  _ always  _ loved you,” he whispered. 

 

“Draco… I—” Hermione spluttered, her eyes widening in shock.

 

He stroked her face, quietening her. “The way I treated you... the things I said… I didn’t mean any of it. Blaise will tell you how I was each time I was vicious to you. I hated to do it, to say those things. It was the only way… it’s all so fucked up. Our whole lives could have been so different if I’d had a different father. He… he—”

 

“I know, Draco. I know. Blaise told me everything and, right now, none of that matters…  _ none  _ of it. I know what you had to do… who you had to be. I forgive you, Draco.” 

 

“I never thought...  I’d hear those words from you,” his voice broke. “I’ve prayed for your forgiveness. So many times.”

 

“Draco… about—”

 

“Shh. It’s okay. Right now, I just need you to know how I feel about you. I just need you to know.”

 

He leaned into her, his lips once again pressing on hers. Too much… the pain was too much, his chest constricting, his hands shaking as he held onto her. 

 

Hermione returned the kiss, her lips moving against his, spilling every ounce of heartache, pain and despair into it. And, in that moment as she opened her mouth and felt Draco’s tongue glide against her own, she knew… they would be each other’s salvation. 

 

They  _ needed _ one another, they were looking for absolution in each other. 

 

A gasp escaped her as he rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers. Hermione’s hands came up to the nape of his neck, fisting his soft blond hair, never wanting to let go.

 

Draco pulled back, his hands cradling her head, his heart pounding against his ribs as he looked at her. 

 

“What does this mean? You kissing me,” he breathed unsteadily. 

 

“I don’t know right now, but I know I don’t want you to stop.”

 

Draco smiled before lowering his mouth back down to hers. 

  
  
  



	19. Chapter Nineteen

This Life

Chapter Nineteen 

~•~•~•~

 

Blaise sat in the middle of his bed, books and parchments spread out before him, revising his Potions homework, nibbling the tip of a quill between his lips. He couldn’t concentrate, his mind wandering to Draco and Hermione in the bedroom next to him. He’d done as promised and left them alone to talk, and so far he hadn’t heard a peep; that had been two hours ago. 

 

Deciding he couldn’t take the anxious feeling welling up inside him anymore, he moved from the bed to check on them. Making his way through their shared bathroom, he gently opened the door to Hermione’s room to find the pair entwined together. Lying facing each other, Draco had his arms firmly around the witch’s back, one arm caressing up and down her spine, his chin resting on the top of her head. Hermione’s face was tucked into the side of Draco’s neck, light snores emanating from her.  

 

“Draco,” the Italian whispered. “Everything alright?”

 

Cocking one eye open, Draco smiled at his boyfriend standing in the doorway. 

 

“I think so. Come in.” 

 

Blaise’s brow furrowed before he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and taking the position he had earlier — lying behind Hermione, sliding a hand around her waist, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. 

 

“What happened?” He asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the resting witch between them.

 

“We talked, Blaise. I mean…  _ really  _ talked.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yes. I told her about what happened at the Manor, how I’ve felt all these years. I… I even told her I loved her.”

 

“Wow!” Blaise exhaled sharply. He really didn’t think Draco would do it. “What did she say?”

 

“She forgave me. She fucking  _ forgave _ me… for everything, and then… I kissed her and she reciprocated.”

 

Blaise felt his eyes widen in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that and was quiet as he thought about what to say next. 

 

“So what now?” He asked, trying not to feel jealous about the kiss between the two people he cared about. 

 

“We’ll see when she wakes. We should both be here and talk to her together. She has questions about us.” 

 

~•~•~•~ 

 

_ Draco had continued to kiss the witch beneath him after her declaration of forgiveness, their lips moving together… so soft… so warm.  _

 

_ When he couldn’t kiss her anymore for fear of suffocating, he raised his head to look down upon her, his arms circling her head, her lips puffy and swollen like his.  _

 

_ “I said ‘don’t stop’,” Hermione whispered, her fingers tracing down the sides of his face.  _

 

_ “I heard you, witch, but I need to breathe and take a minute. I can’t believe you’re kissing me… you forgive me… I—” _

 

_ “I do, Draco. I do forgive you,” she smiled.  _

 

_ “You have no idea what that means… it’s… it’s everything, Hermione, but—” _

 

_ “But what?” A frown marred her face, wondering if he regretted opening up to her.  _

 

_ He sighed, closing his eyes, resting his forehead against hers for a minute before lying back beside her.  _

 

_ “I  _ need _ to know that you’re kissing me because you want to, and not because… because…” _

 

_ “Because…” _

 

_ “You feel sorry for me and think this is what I want right now. I… want you so much, Hermione…  _ need _ you… but I want you to want me too.” _

 

_ “Oh, Draco,” she sighed sadly at his vulnerability, her fingers brushing through his hair. “Do you think I’m the sort of witch who would kiss you because I feel sorry for you? Especially after what you’ve just told me. That… that would be cruel. I  _ wanted  _ to kiss you.”  _

 

_ “So… what then?” He swallowed nervously, not wanting to break this fragile peace between them.  _

 

_ “So I’m saying that… that… we need each other, Draco. Everything you’ve just told me… I need you and Blaise. I realised that I need you both.” _

 

_ “Gods, Hermione. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” He leaned into her touch, her fingers gently scratching the side of his head above his ear.  _

 

_ “I’m nervous though, Draco. I’m scared to leave this room and feel everyone’s stares and whispers after what happened this morning. I’m nervous about what it will be like to fully accept you and Blaise into my life... in  _ that  _ way. You said Gin… Ginny will be back in a week. How am I supposed to see her when… when… and then… you… Blaise… how do I fit in here? I feel stronger with you both near me and I… I don’t want…” _

 

_ Draco silenced her rambling with another press of his lips to hers.  _

 

_ “We’ll figure it out together, baby. The three of us. Why don’t you try and get some more sleep, alright?” _

 

_ She yawned then, moving closer to him, his arms coming around her back and settling her against his chest, his fresh, soapy scent enveloping her senses as her eyes drifted closed once more, her nose pressed into the side of his neck. _

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione was warm — too warm. A pressure across her stomach was amplifying her need to use the toilet. Opening her eyes, blinking to adjust to the low light of the room — moonlight was filtering through the slither of a gap in her curtains — she looked up at the canopy of her bed and tried to stretch, realising her arms were pinned to her sides. She glanced to her right, finding Draco’s head against her shoulder, his arm across her abdomen along with Blaise’s, who was laying on the other side of her.

 

She sighed, feeling content at having the two wizards cuddled around her; their protectiveness was endearing. Even in their sleep they weren’t willing to let go of her, and it made Hermione feel safe… protected… loved. 

 

_ Loved! _

 

Draco had told her he loved her. Her heart had pounded at his words earlier that afternoon. She couldn’t respond to his declaration; she didn’t love him. It wouldn’t have been fair to say something she honestly didn’t mean, so instead she’d said she forgave him, and that  _ was _ the truth. After their highly emotional conversation, her acceptance of both wizards either side of her in her life, Draco’s tears — as he’d opened his heart to her — had left Hermione feeling emotionally wrung out by the day. Between that and all she’d endured since breakfast… she sighed heavily, trying to untangle their grip so she could move. 

 

Draco’s arm tightened around her. “Where are you going?” He asked, his voice husky with sleep. 

 

“Toilet,” she whispered. 

 

“Mmm, ‘kay,” he acquiesced, sliding his arm from her as she lifted Blaise’s out of the way and shuffled to the end of the bed. “Come right back,” the blond muttered into the pillow. 

 

“I will.” Hermione walked into the bathroom, noticing her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was in disarray after spending so much time in bed and having Draco’s fingers running through it while kissing him.  

 

_ Kissing him! Draco Malfoy!  _

 

She shook her head, shock and surprise registering in her eyes as the memory of his lips on hers raced to the front of her mind. 

 

Going about her business, she started to worry once more about the two wizards currently lying in her bed. Yes, she had been developing feelings over the last few weeks for her roommate and fellow head, Blaise. He was… Merlin… he was almost perfect. As for Draco… well, he certainly wasn’t what she had expected or anticipated upon her return to the school. She found she actually enjoyed spending time with him; he was charming and considerate and, after this afternoon,  _ everything  _ had changed for her. 

 

But, being Hermione Granger, she had questions — for both of them. 

 

Tying her hair into a messy bun and splashing cold water on her face, she made her way out into their common room. She’d been lying down too long and needed a few minutes by herself to get her jumbled, erratic thoughts into place before she spoke with them. 

 

Hermione made herself a cup of tea — grinning slightly as she thought about the amount of Yorkshire tea bags she’d managed to sneak in with her at the start of term — and carried it over to the armchair where she settled down, her legs under her. There was a nip in the air and she realised she couldn’t light the fire as she’d left her wand back in her bedroom. Not wanting to disturb the boys by fetching it, she pulled the throw from the back of the chair to rest across her lap. 

 

Warming her cold hands on the cup of tea, taking slow sips, Hermione thought about the two very different conversations she’d had with Blaise and Draco earlier. 

 

She had really broken down in front of Blaise, telling him things she had kept bottled up her whole life. Even Harry and Ron never knew the full details of how hard it had been to be a child of magical ability in the Muggle world and not understand it. She could have talked to Harry, seeing as his life before Hogwarts had been even harder. At least Hermione’s parents never abused her like Harry’s aunt, uncle, and cousin, had done but the timing had never felt right. But, with Blaise comforting her, she had found it cathartic to finally open up. 

 

Hermione had also realised the depths of the wizard’s feelings for her and, in turn, she had to be honest with herself about how she felt. 

 

The  _ very _ raw and emotional confessions between herself and Draco had been eye-opening, to say the least. It had felt freeing to be so open with him — to know that the boy she had grown up with wasn’t the same man that had spoken to her earlier. In  a way, she thought, he had never truly been  _ that  _ boy. Having money and privileges didn’t necessarily equate to a wholesome and good life; he had suffered tremendously as well, and that had been jarring to learn. 

 

She knew she was safe here in her dorm with the two wizards; they accepted her, protected her, made her feel safe. But out there, beyond her door, what were people saying about her? 

 

The episode in the Great Hall had been terrifying. Hermione had never wanted people to know about or see the ugliness on her arm. It was a mark of shame to her, to be branded like cattle, reminding everyone that she didn’t belong.

 

Mudblood!

 

Unnatural!

 

An abomination of magic! 

 

It didn’t matter that Draco and Blaise told her she was wrong, it was how she felt. There were plenty of witches and wizards who still thought that way, who started a war to rid their world of people like her, and a couple of conversations weren’t going to change her belief on that. Not right away anyway. 

 

She really wanted to talk to Draco and Blaise about her growing feelings for them. But really, what were those feelings? She needed to consider both men and her own thoughts about what they had revealed to her.

 

Blaise was so sweet, so caring, so easy to be around. He had such a calming, easy presence that made Hermione feel relaxed. He seemed so supportive of Draco; he’d always been there for the snarky, high maintenance blond. Blaise was someone Hermione could see herself settling down with and, after catching him with Draco in the bathroom all those weeks ago, she knew that under that placid exterior lay a very passionate wizard. He and Draco seemed to balance each other out. Whereas Draco could be stubborn and hard work, Blaise was the opposite. 

 

What would it be like to be in a relationship with them? 

 

Hermione knew she and Draco would probably butt heads quite a bit. They were both fiery, stubborn, hot-tempered people. Would Blaise always have to play peacemaker between them? That didn’t seem fair. And did Blaise  _ actually  _ have true feelings for her? Or was he just going along with telling Draco that for fear of losing him? The blond had long admitted to his boyfriend the feelings he had for her. From what she had seen and heard so far, the quiet Italian came across as sincere, and maybe this was Hermione’s lack in self-confidence fueling these thoughts. And Draco… the wizard in question was a walking conundrum. His brutal honesty with her that afternoon, the apology he had bestowed upon her at the lake, and his whole demeanour with her since school had started had flipped everything around regarding her feelings for the Malfoy heir. 

 

Hermione was sure he was still a spoilt, entitled little brat under the persona he had been projecting over the last couple of months. But she couldn’t deny that the way he had been treating her had been a revelation, and she definitely couldn’t lie to herself about the fluttering she felt low down in her belly when she looked at him sometimes or thought about the way he had kissed her earlier. 

 

Her mind was racing with thoughts and unanswered questions regarding the pair. Her breathing deepening as images of the three of them together skittered into her mind. Growling in frustration at her confusion, and promising to speak to the wizards, she shook her head to clear it. 

 

Staring contemplatively across the room, her mind drifted to her parents once again. Talking with Blaise about them had been like exorcising a demon in her mind. She knew Kingsley and the Australian Ministry were doing everything they could to find them. What worried Hermione is what would happen if they did. Would they be able to reverse the spell? Would her parents hate her for it? What would she do if she lost them forever? 

 

She was so deep in thought, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she hadn’t realised she was crying again until she felt a teardrop splash on her hand. Sniffing in surprise, she wiped at her cheek. 

 

“Hermione?” 

 

She turned her head to find Draco and Blaise standing in the doorway of her room, panicked looks across both of their faces. Their clothes were rumpled and Draco’s hair was sticking up all over the place. She smiled at the state of them, having never seen the two Slytherins looking anything but put together. 

 

They made their way across the room, Blaise removing the now lukewarm mug from Hermione’s hands as Draco pulled her up, sat down in her vacated spot, and settled her back into his lap. Blaise knelt before them, his hands rubbing up and down her arm in a soothing way. 

 

“ Cosa è sbagliato, cara? _ ”  _ He asked quietly, as Draco wrapped his hands around her waist, “ perché stai piangendo? ”

 

“I-I’m sorry… I was… thinking about my parents again.” She caught the gist of what he was saying as she had been studying a little Italian, as she’d promised herself.

 

“Don’t be sorry,  _ Amore mio.  _ You’re allowed to be upset, there’s no need to apologise.” Blaise comforted her, catching Draco’s eye over the witch’s shoulder. 

 

“Hermione,” Draco breathed quietly, “we can help you, you know? My family have a private inquiry agency on retainer for anything we need. I could send them to Australia to look for them.”

 

“No, Draco. I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

 

“You’re not asking, love. I’m offering. It wouldn’t be a problem; I’d just have to forward some information so they could coordinate with the Australian Ministry. And while I’m doing that, you could send a note to the Minister asking for an update.”

 

“I…” Hermione thought about it for a moment. She would do anything to know where her parents were and her initial reluctance over Draco’s offer was overriding her need to remain independent and not ask for help. “Yes… okay… yes. Thank you, Draco.”

 

“It’s absolutely  _ not _ a problem,” he told her, placing a finger under her chin and raising her head up to face him. His lips pressed softly against hers before letting go, grinning widely. 

 

Hermione’s face heated up, the blush creeping across her cheeks. 

 

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly gone shy.” Draco smiled. 

 

“I… well… I wanted to speak with you both.” She told him coyly, turning to observe Blaise’s reaction. His eyes were black fire, smouldering with lust as he watched the pair kiss. 

 

“We can do that. But seeing as it’s evening now, and none of us have eaten, how about we get some food and then talk?” Blaise breathed roughly, trying to contain the urge to lean forward and taste her for himself. 

 

“That sounds good,” Hermione agreed, nodding her head. 

 

He helped her up, suggesting she write immediately to Kingsley Shacklebolt. When she agreed, Draco confirmed he would contact his family’s investigators as well. That left Blaise to organise dinner.

 

“Thank you, Blaise,” Hermione said, cupping his cheek and leaning up to press her lips to his without even thinking about it, leaving the wizard standing there in shock.

 

As she made her way over to the large study table where her parchment and quill was, Blaise looked back at Draco. “Wow!” He mouthed silently to his boyfriend who was still sitting in the armchair, looking up at his shocked boyfriend with a knowing grin. 

 

“Right?” The blond mouthed back. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

An hour later found the three of them sitting at the table eating sausages and mash with a rich onion gravy that Blaise had convinced the house-elves to cook for them, followed by a creamy strawberry cheesecake. 

 

Hermione and Draco’s letters had been sent and the atmosphere seemed a bit more relaxed as they ate the dinner provided, enjoying each other’s company. As Hermione placed her spoon on the now empty dessert plate before her, she yawned loudly, stretching her arms over her head. 

 

“Tired, kitten?” Draco asked. 

 

She looked across at him, her brows furrowed. 

 

“Kitten?”

 

“Well, Blaise has his little Italian nicknames for you, why can’t I have one as well?”

 

She thought for a moment before answering. Kitten? It was quite endearing, she supposed, and she loved the word play. Rather than making her feel childish when Draco said it, she felt cherished. 

 

“Okay, I can live with that.” She smiled from under her lashes at the blond across from her, a blush creeping across her cheeks. 

 

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifted slightly in that boyish way she loved. Blaise broke the silence with a contented sigh, leaning back in his chair. 

 

“That was a good dinner.”

 

“It was,” Draco and Hermione answered in unison, laughing at each other. 

 

“What would you like to do now, Hermione?” Blaise asked, giving her the control over whatever conversation was about to happen. 

 

“I’m going to take another shower and get into bed, I think. I know I’ve done nothing but sleep all day but I feel completely strung out. And...”

 

She suddenly looked nervous, glancing from one to the other as she tried to form her next words.

 

“I… umm… I…” she stuttered, swallowing heavily. 

 

“Go on, kitten. Tell us what you were going to say,” Draco said tenderly. 

 

She took strength from his comforting tone before continuing. 

 

“I don’t really want to be alone. Would you both… well… would you stay with me tonight?” She bent her head forward so they wouldn’t see the redness on her face, her heart beating wildly, clammy hands rubbing against the fabric of her pyjamas. 

 

“ _ Cara,  _ look at us.” 

 

She did as Blaise asked, looking up shyly. 

 

“If that’s what you want, then that’s okay with us,” he smiled. “Go have your shower, Draco and I will clean up out here and join you in a little while, alright?”

 

Hermione nodded as she stood, thanking them both for looking after her, and made her way to the bathroom. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian to English...
> 
> “Cosa è sbagliato, cara?” He asked quietly, as Draco wrapped his hands around her waist, “perché stai piangendo?”
> 
> “What’s wrong, dear?  
> “Why are you crying?”
> 
> Thanks to Dile for her continued help with the Italian x M’wah xx


	20. Chapter Twenty

This Life

Chapter Twenty

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione was first back to her bedroom after taking a long, hot shower, washing away the stresses of the day. Dressed in her Gryffindor red pyjamas, her hair falling loosely down her back, she crawled under the duvet, making herself comfy in the middle of the bed, leaving room on either side for Draco and Blaise to join her.

 

Her eyes started to drift closed when her door opened and they entered the room. She watched them from underneath her lashes as they began to undress, gulping quietly as their bodies were revealed. Both were toned and slender, Blaise slightly broader compared to Draco’s lithe frame. Something Pansy had whispered to her the morning she’d sat at the Slytherin table slithered through her mind, and she found herself once again agreeing with the witch. As Draco and Blaise shed their shirts, Hermione couldn’t help but notice their contrasting skin tones. 

 

Draco was so fair, his skin like porcelain, a myriad of different scars littering his chest, making Hermione weep silently for him, knowing how he’d gotten some of them and trying not to think about the others or how they had been inflicted. Blaise, on the other hand, was like fine milk chocolate, not a mark on his smooth skin. Both stood staring at her, each wearing tight boxer shorts, the outline of what lay beneath was making her mouth dry.  

 

It was holy unfair that they both looked the way they did and she was so plain and ordinary. Hermione wondered — for the millionth time — what it was they saw in her and she began to worry once more that, if things progressed between the three of them, they would be as disappointed with her body as she was. Her breasts were not big — they erred on the side of fairly small — her stomach wasn’t washboard flat, and her thighs reminded her of tree trunks, although they did taper down into slim calves and ankles. And that was without even mentioning the thing she hated the most —  _ her scar!  _ The filthy slur forever marring her innocent skin. 

 

She was pulled from her negative thoughts by the sound of Draco’s voice. 

 

“See something you like, kitten?” He grinned wickedly, noticing her staring at them both. 

 

She rolled her eyes and told them not to be so vain as she pulled back the quilt, inviting them both to get in either side. They did as bade, lying on their sides, heads propped up in their hands as they looked down on her. 

 

“Nice pj’s,” Draco mocked, wincing as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. 

 

Blaise laughed from their other side, Hermione turning her head towards him, his laugh fading quickly as he fingered a lock of her curls. 

 

“You are so beautiful,  _ Cara.”  _ He watched her cheeks flush crimson at his compliment as he moved his head towards her, capturing her lips with his own. 

 

Hermione gasped against him, her lips opening as Blaise’s tongue slid inside the warm cavern of her mouth, dancing alongside her own. He tasted of the strawberry cheesecake they’d had for dessert, his full lips soft and warm, moving sensually against hers. She felt Draco’s fingers playing with the hem of her nightshirt and skating underneath, her skin tingling as he smoothed his hand across her warm stomach, a fire igniting deep inside at his touch. She moaned against the soft caress of Blaise’s lips, suddenly pulling back, her heart thundering inside her chest as Draco’s hand palmed her hip while he moved her hair aside to press kisses along the back of her neck.

 

“Merlin, you two… stop,” she gasped. “I wanted to talk to you both.”

 

“So talk, witch,” Draco growled into her ear, his grip tightening on her smooth flesh. 

 

Hermione suddenly felt quite bashful having to voice her inner turmoil to them once again. This wasn’t about her arm, her life, her parents, or her mental state. This felt…  _ different _ . It had taken a lot for her to talk so freely with Draco and Blaise separately during the course of the day. Now she had them  _ both _ here, discussing the possible start of a fledgling relationship between the three of them, and having both lying next to her — practically naked — it was overwhelming. She swallowed deeply before lying her head back into the pillow, needing a bit of space from their intoxicating presence. 

 

“You told me a few weeks ago that you didn’t like girls and I knew you were both together in fifth year. How… how do you know that you… that you  _ like  _ me?” 

 

“Hermione.” The witch turned her head towards Draco. “I know  _ exactly  _ what’s going on in that brain of yours. You think we’re gay and couldn’t possibly be interested in girls, right?”

 

“Well… yeah, actually. That and  _ other  _ things.” It amazed her how intuitive Draco was, and how easily he could read her exact thoughts. She knew he was a skilled Occlumens, perhaps— 

 

_ “Right?” _ He pressed, bringing her back to reality. “It’s not like that. I wouldn’t class myself as only interested in men — as you well know — or I wouldn’t have kissed you, or admitted to loving you.” She blushed as he, once again, said he loved her. 

 

“Draco’s right,  _ Amore, _ ” Blaise cut in, Hermione turning to look at him as he spoke. “We can appreciate a beautiful woman, and even fantasise about women in general, but you’re the only one we’ve ever wanted to be intimate with.”

 

“Oh.” That gave her pause to reflect on what they were saying. 

 

After a moment’s silence, Draco spoke again. “I personally find it’s more about the actual person rather than their gender. And you… well… you’ve intrigued me since the first day I met you.” His hand was still caressing her hip, his long fingers brushing her side. 

 

“This… right here… I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. All I’ve ever wanted is you… between us. Blaise and I can give you the world, Hermione. We’ll love you, care for you, cherish you, if you’ll let us.”

 

“Both of you?” She asked shyly.

 

“Of course  _ both  _ of us. Why would you ask that?” Blaise questioned, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

 

“This afternoon Draco asked if I was just kissing him out of some sort of misplaced pity and I wasn’t…  _ not at all... _ but… it got me thinking about you, Blaise.” 

 

“What about me?”

 

She gulped nervously once more. 

 

_ Why was this so hard? Sharing feelings? Especially after the conversations between them over the last few weeks! _

 

_ “ _ You told me that you knew Draco had… had feelings for me for a long time before you did, and I was just wondering if… if—”

 

Blaise understood immediately what she was trying to say. “You’re wondering if I’m just saying I like you because that’s what Draco wants to hear, right?”

 

“Y-yes.” She blushed furiously.

 

“No,” He said adamantly, his fingers delving into her curly locks and turning her head towards him. 

 

“No?” She breathed unsteadily, his gaze penetrating through her intensely.

 

“No. I wouldn’t do that. If I didn’t feel anything for you then I would have sat down with Draco and spoke to him about it. But I do… I do have feelings for you, Hermione. I…” Blaise punctuated his next words with kisses against her lips. “I love you too.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t help the rush of emotion as she felt her body sigh in relief, her own stupid mind had convinced her that Blaise didn’t feel the same way, and now he’d confessed to loving her as well. She was overcome when tears began to slide down her cheeks as Blaise continued to pepper kisses on her lips. 

 

“How could you even think that, kitten? Of course he loves you,” Draco murmured against the side of her neck.

 

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione replied, her tears now happy ones as she turned once again so both men could see her face. “I have… been… developing feelings for you both, I know it... but I’m scared. I was so confused! I’ve never—”

 

“Don’t be scared, kitten. We’ll _ never  _ hurt you, and we can take this as slow as you like. There’s no rush for anything.” 

 

“I… I would like that,” she admitted coyly, closing her eyes and relaxing into his caress as Blaise’s fingers smoothed the worry from her brow. 

 

“That night when we talked, Hermione, the night I told you when this started for me. I wasn’t lying. I have been falling in love with you since fourth year. And Draco is right—” Blaise sighed.  _ How could she doubt him after that conversation?  _ “We will love you, cherish you, strive to always make you happy because we want you with us. The thought of any other wizard being with you… taking you from us… or, Merlin forbid, what you said earlier… the idea of you just not being here… we can’t think about that. It can’t happen. We love each other so much, the same way we love you.”

 

Hermione looked between the two men, their faces were sincere, their gazes intense as they watched her take in the words.

 

Hermione nodded. Yes. She  _ wanted _ them.  _ Needed _ them. 

 

She could try this with them. 

 

“Tomorrow...” Hermione spoke a short while later. 

 

“Don’t worry about tomorrow, Hermione. We won’t leave your side all day, everything will be okay. Trust us,” Blaise told her, his fingers gliding down her face and neck, making her shiver at his soft touch. 

 

And she did trust them. She knew she could love these wizards very easily with time. She turned her head, lips meeting Draco’s in a tender, unhurried kiss, then repeating the embrace with Blaise. It was a feeling she’d never experienced… ever. The feeling of being wanted, desired… _ loved.  _

 

Draco curled around her, pulling her back into his firm, warm chest, and Blaise moved forward, his arm going over her and Draco. He leaned towards his boyfriend, his lips ghosting Hermione’s cheek as they sought Draco’s. The lovers embraced right over her, whispering their devotion to each other as Hermione bit her lip hard, her body responding to the passion emanating from the two wizards around her.

 

The three whispered good night and, for once, Hermione’s mind relaxed, knowing that whatever tomorrow brought she would have these two by her side. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione woke before either Draco or Blaise the next morning, feeling well rested. In fact, it had been one of the best sleeps she’d had in years. But today was a new day and she would have to face people... friends… the headmistress, and she was feeling anxious about it. If there was one thing Hermione didn’t like it was attention and now, thanks to Ginevra Weasley, the majority of the school would be staring, whispering, and gossiping about her.

 

She needed some air.

 

Judging by the light filtering through the gap in her curtains she knew if she got up now she would make it down to the lake to see the sunrise and probably not run into anyone this early either. Managing to untangle herself from the wizards wrapped around her without disturbing them, Hermione picked out her uniform from the wardrobe, stopping at the end of her bed to gaze upon the men still asleep. She couldn’t believe she could call them  _ hers.  _ The thought made her shiver as she watched their quiet breathing, thinking how lucky she’d gotten before making her way into the bathroom.  

 

Once she had dressed and picked up her school bag, she stepped out into the corridor and froze at the sound of Snape's voice.

 

“Miss Granger,” he drawled in that monotone way of his.

 

She turned to face him. “Good morning, Professor, you’re awake early.”

 

“Where are you going at this time of day?” He remarked, ignoring her observation.

 

“Down to the lake, Sir. I need some air and I like to watch the sun come up.”

 

“The Headmistress is keen to have a word with you. And do your roommates know where you are going? I wouldn’t want them to worry unnecessarily upon finding you gone when they wake.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help her mouth falling open. Was Snape being  _ nice  _ to her? Surely not. And how did he know Draco and Blaise were sleeping? 

 

Recognition hit her as she sighed internally.

 

Infernal portraits. They gossiped! It was like having Hogwarts’ own version of Big Brother. There were portraits in their common room, so obviously one of those had spoken with Snape.

 

“I…” She blushed. 

 

“I see,” the greasy-haired Potions master sneered. “Not to worry, Miss Granger. I shall inform them as they come barreling through the door when they can’t find you upon waking, as they no doubt will.”

 

Again, how the hell did he know so much? Hermione thought mutinously. She wiped her now clammy palms down her pleated grey school skirt, and gulped.

 

“That... that would be good. Th-thank you, Professor.” Hermione turned, wanting this awkwardness over with as soon as possible. She began to walk away before the crabby bat called for her again.

 

She looked over her shoulder not slowing her steps.

 

“Maybe next time you could save them the worry and leave a note. Oh, and do stop by the headmistress’ office before breakfast. Good day, Miss Granger.” He told her, turning and striding out of the portrait in a swirl of black robes.

 

Hermione shook her head in disbelief and carried on to her destination.

 

~•~•~•~

 

As she sat in her usual spot, her back against the large rock and watching the first rays of morning light peek over the mountain top in the distance, Hermione heard noise coming  from behind her. Whirling around quickly, wand drawn, she made out the outline of her two best friends ambling towards her in the pale light, their hands up in the air in surrender.

 

“Don’t shoot, Mione,” Ron called, laughing quietly.

 

She pocketed her wand back inside her robes and sighed. All she wanted was thirty minutes peace before this.

 

Harry and Ron sat down on either side of her, Harry bumping his shoulder into her — which made her smile — while Ron put his arm around her shoulders. They said nothing for a while. 

 

“Well?” Harry spoke, unable to hold back a second longer.

 

“Well what?” She replied defensively.

 

“Come on, Mione. We’ve been so worried about you. What happened after Blaise took you out of the Hall yesterday?” Ron inquired. 

 

Hermione told them that her roommate had gotten her back to their dorm and she had slept most of the day away. After that, Blaise had organised some food for her and then she had slept some more. She knew Harry and Ron deserved more than that; she owed them a proper explanation of what actually transpired between her and the two Slytherins she lived with but she wasn’t in the mood. Harry watched her speculatively, knowing she wasn’t being entirely honest, and Hermione turned to him to mouth ‘later’. He nodded slightly.

 

“So Malfoy wasn’t a prick to you or anything then?” Ron asked. 

 

“No, I didn’t even see him. Like I said, apart from Blaise bringing me dinner, I pretty much slept the day away and needed some air this morning, hence I’m here.” Hermione didn’t want to say too much in front of Ron. Even though he was one of her best friends, she hadn’t told him about Draco and Blaise’s feelings towards her, like she had Harry, and she  _ definitely  _ wasn’t in the mood for his rage when he did find out. That thought got her thinking. Until she was sure that her relationship with the two Slytherins was going somewhere then she’d rather the rest of the student body didn’t know. It was going to be bad enough anyway with the school gossip mill, without them all knowing she had agreed to be in a relationship with  _ two  _ men.

 

“What happened with your sister?” She tentatively asked Ron. 

 

“Oh, erm…” he scratched the back of his neck — Ron’s sign that he was nervous. “McGonagall suspended her for a week and took her home to Mum and Dad. They were absolutely furious, of course. There’s going to be a big meeting with them and McGonagall tomorrow morning to decide what to do next.”

 

“Oh, well, I suppose they would be… furious, I mean,” she explained, noting his furrowed brow.

 

“Not with you, Mione. With Ginny. They went bananas at her apparently.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, absolutely. Why would they be angry at you? You haven’t done anything wrong and Mum and Dad love you, silly.”

 

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione sighed, leaning her head against his broad, comforting shoulder. “I never wanted this to happen. I’ve been doing my best to stay away from her, but she—“

 

“You don’t have to tell me, Mione. I wrote to Mum and Dad last night telling them Ginny was nutters.” 

 

“Ron, no. I mean, she clearly needs help. Merlin, some of the things she said—”

 

“We know, we heard,” Harry butted in. “You need to see McGonagall this morning, Hermione.”

 

“I’m going to see her before breakfast actually. Want to walk me?”

 

“Yeah, course.”

 

Hermione exhaled, pleased her friends had sought her out. Whenever she needed time alone she could be found in this spot and they both knew it. Being Harry and Ron, however, they never _ quite _ got the message about her being by the lake when she needed time alone but she didn’t always mind. It felt nice to be loved so fiercely by her friends, even if sometimes she did need reminding that they were there for her. 

 

“We love you, Mione. Never forget that,” Ron said, squeezing her tightly against his chest. “Harry and I will always be here for you.”

 

“I know. I love you both too.”

 

They sat together in companionable silence for another twenty minutes or so, watching the sun ascend into the sky, Hermione's mood brightening along with the landscape, before the boys stood and helped her up, making their way back to the castle, and escorting her to the headmistress’ office with promises of seeing her at breakfast. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Walking away from McGonagalls’ office, following a long chat, Hermione jumped as she turned a corner and came face to face with Draco and Blaise. The blond was pacing backwards and forwards across the corridor, running one hand through his hair and biting around a fingernail on the other, while Blaise leant against the wall watching him.

 

“Kitten,” Draco exclaimed in surprise when he spotted Hermione. He crossed to her immediately and gathered her into his arms, his face pressing into the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing deeply. 

 

“Merlin, you gave us a fright,” he continued, raising his head to look down into her eyes. “We woke up and you weren’t there. We were so worried until Snape explained where you’d gone.” Draco’s hands cupped her face as he leaned down to kiss her. 

 

She moaned as she felt Blaise’s arms come around her waist from the back, his lips pressed firmly into the side of her neck as he peppered kisses along her throat. 

 

“Everything alright,  _ Amore?”  _ He breathed into her skin. 

 

Godric, would she ever get used to having them wrapped around her like this? She hoped not. 

 

“I’m fine,” she breathed, pulling her mouth from Draco’s. “I needed some air and went to sit by the lake before I went to see the headmistress, that’s all. I didn’t mean to worry you both,” she added contritely. 

 

“Don’t ever just leave like that again, kitten, please.” Hermione could hear the pleading tone coming from the blond holding tightly onto her.  

 

“I won’t, and I really am sorry.”

 

Blaise turned her head towards him, capturing her lips with his own, licking at the seam of her mouth until she relented and opened for him. Draco turned her full body into the wizard behind her, the pair swapping positions as Blaise deepened the kiss and Draco grabbed a hold of her hips, pulling her firmly back into his chest, watching her kiss Blaise. 

 

Hermione was panting hard when Blaise pulled away, one hand pushing an errant curl behind her ear as the thumb of his other hand smoothed across her kiss-swollen lips. 

 

“Breakfast?” He asked, his eyes dark with lust. “You can tell us how the meeting with McGonagall went on the way.”

 

“Yes, but we need to discuss something first,” she told him, her eyes seeking Draco’s across her shoulder as well. 

 

The blond stepped around her so they were both facing her. 

 

“What is it,  _ Cara?”  _ Blaise asked in a gentle tone. 

 

“This.” She indicated with her hand between the three of them. “It’s all so new and I don’t want the masses dissecting it. Would it… would it be possible to keep it between the three of us for now?”

 

Draco didn’t look happy with what she was saying but Blaise appeared to understand. 

 

“We told you, love. Whatever you need.” Blaise stepped towards her again, taking her in his arms, rubbing his hand soothingly down her back. She missed the look he gave Draco as the blond ran a hand down her arm, his fingers gliding over the back of her hand and raising it to his lips.

 

“Whatever you need, love,” he repeated his boyfriend’s words, Hermione relaxing between them at their easy acceptance of her request. 

 

“Come, let’s get you fed,” Blaise said, releasing her so she could walk between them down to the Great Hall. 

 

No one noticed Lavender Brown hidden in an alcove as they passed, listening to their conversation, and smirking wickedly at the information she had just heard. 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

This Life

Chapter Twenty One

~•~•~•~

 

The late afternoon sunlight was pouring in through the library window, spilling across the table where Hermione and Harry had their homework spread out in front of them. He was working on his latest Potions essay and she was supposed to be figuring out an Arithmancy equation, instead, she was watching the dust motes dance in front of her eyes. She couldn't concentrate on the parchment in her hand as images of Draco and Blaise stepping into the common room, back from Quidditch practice earlier, assaulted her memory.   
  
Seeing them both in their Quidditch uniforms made things lower down in her body clench in admiration. The green jerseys with their names emblazoned across the back, the leather protector things adorning their arms. Hermione didn't know what they were called, she had little time for Quidditch — except for her men in their uniforms. The boots they wore were what really got her going, however. Long brown, leather boots, worn over tight white trousers that covered up firm thighs she could now easily imagine wrapped around her. She sighed and felt Harry nudge her in the arm, with a wide-eyed look on his face.   
  
"Are you daydreaming, Hermione? That's not like you,” he inquired, arching an eyebrow that disappeared under his mop of dark hair. “You're sitting there with a far away look on your face. What's got you all flushed?" 

 

“Hmm… oh… umm… nothing,” Hermione coughed, realising she had sighed loudly, alerting her friend to the fact she  _ wasn’t  _ doing homework — unheard of in her world. It just proved what an effect her roommates were having on her. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

The last few days had been wonderful for Hermione. Draco and Blaise hadn’t let her out of their sight when they weren’t in their rooms together, and she was actually enjoying being cared for by them both. Even the day after what had happened with Ginny in the Great Hall hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. No one had given her any strange looks, or made any comment about her scar. She was sure the headmistress must have said something to the student body as a whole because everyone had left her alone. She wasn’t stupid though, Hermione was sure that they were whispering about it but she just hadn’t heard them. Having her two Slytherins shadowing her everywhere probably helped as well and knowing Ginny wasn’t going to pounce helped calm her further. 

 

The only dim spot in the last few days had been Draco’s reaction when he’d met her outside the headmistress’ office with Blaise. He had  _ not  _ been happy to learn that Hermione had said she was alright with Ginny returning to school following her suspension. McGonagall had wanted to expel the girl, whereas Hermione didn’t think Ginny should miss out on completing her education. She had told her mentor that, as long as Rons’ sister stayed away from her, there would be no issue with her coming back. 

 

Draco, on the other hand, thought Hermione’s decision was an awful one and told her in no uncertain terms that, if the redhead came within ten metres of her, he would hex the bitch to the fiery pits of hell — expulsion be damned. She and Blaise had managed to calm him down enough to see Hermione’s reasoning, but he still wasn’t happy. 

 

McGonagall had explained what had been said in the meeting between herself, Arthur, and Molly. It was agreed that Ginny should be referred to one of the Mind Healers at St Mungo’s and that she had been going in to see someone every day of her suspension for analysis. The Mind Healer would be in touch with a report for the Weasley parents and the headmistress before Ginny returned to Hogwarts. Hermione was more than happy with that news, feeling safe in the knowledge that the younger witch was finally receiving the help she so clearly needed.

 

Once Hermione had put that out of her mind, she had concentrated on the fledgeling relationship that was developing between herself, Draco, and Blaise. She had sat at their house table for breakfast and lunch everyday during the last week but still remained at her own for dinner. She didn’t want her two best friends to feel left out, and Ron was getting suspicious about the amount of time she was spending with the Slytherins. 

 

Hermione knew the time was coming to have a talk with him about things — a talk she was really not looking forward to.

 

~•~•~•~

 

“Oooookay,” Harry grinned, not believing her for a moment. He watched closely as she smiled back, still with a far away look, clearly thinking about something else.

 

“Shut up, Harry.” Hermione blushed, looking back down at her homework. She had told Harry  _ some  _ of the truth about what had been said between her, Draco, and Blaise the day of the Great Hall incident. She hadn’t told him about her suicidal thoughts, though. She didn’t want to burden her best friend over that; Harry was still dealing with his own demons following the end of the war.

 

Hermione had also confessed to her feelings for her roommates, and that they had agreed to be together. He’d been happy for her but did warn — in his brotherly way — that, if they did wrong by her, he would hurt them both. Happily. 

 

“So,” he began, waiting for Hermione to look up from the parchment she had been writing on. Harry decided to stop teasing his friend, it was clear on her face where her thoughts had gone.

 

“So, what?” Hermione asked, chewing the end of her quill. 

 

“McGonagall’s exhibition Quidditch match is this Saturday. Which team will you be supporting, Hermione? You know, with Ron and I playing for Gryffindor and your two lovers playing for Slytherin, it’ll be a hard choice for you.” He winked and laughed as he watched the colour drain from Hermione’s face. 

 

“They… what? They’re not my… my…  _ lovers,”  _ Hermione whispered the last word, looking surreptitiously around her for eavesdropping students, breathing a sigh of relief when she realised they were the only ones there. 

 

“What are they then?” Harry asked, confused. 

 

“We haven’t… I mean… we… we—” 

 

Realisation dawned on Harry. “It’s alright, Hermione, I was joking,” he told her with his hand up. “I don’t need to know anyway. I was just teasing.”

 

Hermione exhaled, reprieved from having to explain the situation of her love life — or lack thereof — to her friend. It wasn’t that she didn’t  _ want  _ to have sex with Draco and Blaise — she’d actually thought about it a lot recently. She just wasn’t ready to take that step until she was sure about them. She  _ was  _ sure that she wanted to be with them both, but she felt that the trust needed to be built more before she gave herself to them in  _ that  _ way. 

 

Thankfully neither of her snakes were pushing or forcing her into anything she didn’t want to do. Even though the three had found themselves in the same bed every night for the past week, Draco and Blaise hadn’t gone further than she wanted; both seemed happy to just kiss, caress, and cuddle her. And even though those kisses and small touches had left Hermione very much wanting more, she’d managed to abstain so far.

 

“Oh… erm… okay then.” Hermione blushed beet red. “As for Saturday, I’m torn, Harry. I’ll be sitting in the Gryffindor stand and, even though I would normally want you and Ron to win, it would actually be nice for Draco to beat you… just this once,” she admitted, grinning at the shocked look on Harry’s face. 

 

“Such a traitor,” he hissed jokingly, reaching across the table to pat the back of her hand. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens, won’t we?” 

 

Hermione laughed as Harry attempted again to wink at her. He’d never been very good at it. Everytime he tried, the corner of his mouth would scrunch up and make him look ridiculous. 

 

“Idiot,” Hermione replied as she began to pick up her things and pack them away. 

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Prefects’ meeting in an hour, Harry. I thought you would have known seeing as you’re a… what was it now—” Hermione mocked, her hand on her chin as if in thought “—oh, yeah… a prefect.”

 

“Haha! Very funny. Yes, I did forget. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

 

“See you soon then.” She waved at him over her shoulder as she left the library. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione huffed loudly as her head fell back against the sofa, one hand covering her eyes and the other tapping incessantly against the arm of the settee. 

 

“Something wrong?” Draco asked from his spot on the armchair closest to her. It wasn’t like Hermione to get so wound up during a prefects’ meeting. 

 

She spread her fingers across her eyes so she could peek at the blond from between them, and growled through clenched teeth. 

 

“Bloody, fucking, Lavender. Why does she have to disagree with everything Blaise and I say? Just because the vapid little bitch wanted to host the Halloween ball instead of Christmas, she’s making a point of being a difficult little shrew.”

 

“Don’t hold back, Cara.” Blaise laughed as he sat down next to her, pulling her into the warm embrace of his chest. “Say what you mean.”

 

“She just infuriates me so much, and did you see those sly little looks she was throwing at me? What’s her problem anyway?”

 

“Don’t worry about her, kitten. It’s done now,” Draco remarked, moving from the armchair to sit next to her on the sofa, rubbing his hand soothingly down her arm as she cuddled against Blaise. 

 

Hermione sighed loudly, sitting back up and taking each of the wizards’ hands closest to her to lay in her lap.

 

“I shouldn’t let her get to me like that, I know that, but she gives me a bad feeling. I feel like she’s watching me and we all know who her best friend is.”

 

Draco shot Blaise a sly glance across their witch, their silent conversation confirming what was really going on.

 

“Is this what it’s really about, Hermione? We know the Weasley bitch is due back on Monday. Are you worried?” Draco asked.

 

“No… yes… I… I don’t know,” she replied indecisively. Hermione wasn’t  _ worried  _ per se. It was more a feeling of anxiety as she didn’t know what to expect. McGonagall had asked to speak with her on Sunday evening, before Ginny returned, and it was making Hermione fret unnecessarily. 

 

“Don't worry about it now. Why don’t we talk about how the Slytherins are going to kick Gyrffindor arses this weekend at Quidditch?”

 

Hermione snorted inelegantly at her wizard’s words.

 

“As Harry said earlier… we shall see.” She turned to grin wickedly at Draco, secretly hoping that her boys would win the match; she wouldn’t tell them that though. 

 

~•~•~•~ 

 

As it turned out, Slytherin  _ did _ end up winning the match that chilly Saturday afternoon. It had been a tense game with lots of fouls committed on both sides. The commentary was unduly biased as well, as the headmistress had invited Lee Jordan and George Weasley back to commentate on the match. 

 

It had been good to see Lee and George, Hermione catching up with them both as they’d sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast before the start of the game. Lee seemed to be bringing George out of the depression he had fallen into after the loss of Fred at the Final Battle back in May. 

 

As much as the two ex-jokers of Gryffindor had tried to put the Slytherin team off with their funny jokes and slightly risqué barbs, nothing could have put Draco off his focus. He was hurtling towards the Snitch before Harry even realised what he was doing. 

 

As Draco landed and held the tiny golden ball above his head — the Slytherin crowd roaring with delight, clapping and cheering profusely — Hermione had silently celebrated from the Gryffindor side of the stadium. The look of sheer joy was plain for her to see on his face, and she’d almost fainted when Harry, followed by Ron, walked up to him and shook his hand, congratulating him on a brilliant win, jeers coming from the speakers about how it was about bloody time.

 

After the match Hermione had a quick chat with her friends, consoling them on their loss, hugged Lee and George goodbye with promises of seeing them soon, and quickly made her way back to the dorm she shared with her winning snakes. 

 

Draco grabbed her around the waist as soon as she entered their common room — clearly waiting for her to arrive — spinning her around and soundly kissing her, then releasing her for Blaise to do the exact same thing. 

 

Their happiness at the win was infectious and Hermione couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face at their celebrations. 

 

“Party tonight in the dungeons, Granger, and you’re coming with us,” Draco announced as Blaise lowered her back to the floor, his arms sliding around her waist as she felt Draco’s hand caressing her hip from behind.

 

“Excuse me?” Hermione wasn’t going into the Slytherin dungeon to celebrate the opposing teams win — no matter how happy she was for her wizards. 

 

“Yes you are, kitten. Pansy will be there and Quidditch bores her senseless as well, so at least she’ll have someone to talk to.”

 

“But I… what would I say? What excuse would I have for being there? We aren’t supposed to be together publicly, remember?”

 

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll just say we dragged you along.”

 

“But—”

 

“No buts, Granger. We want you there and that’s that.” 

 

Draco sighed. He knew he shouldn’t be so forceful about it but, ever since she admitted to Blaise just how dark her thoughts had gotten recently, neither wizard wanted to leave her by herself. Not because they thought she would actually do anything to herself; it was more for their own peace of mind — knowing she was with them. Plus it would start rumours if either of the wizards didn’t attend their own victory party.

 

Blaise scowled at Draco’s forcefulness, knowing Hermione wouldn’t be  _ told  _ what to do so he tried to ease the situation. 

 

“Please, Cara,” he pleaded. “We don’t like the thought of you being alone and bored. We promise we won’t do anything obvious to attract attention to the fact that we’re  _ more  _ than friends.”

 

How could Hermione refuse the man in front of her when he used those expressive brown eyes to get what he wanted. She sighed. “Alright then. I suppose it would be good to catch up with Pansy. I haven’t seen her around a lot recently.”

 

“Oh… yeah… she’s been… busy,” Draco told her, his grimace obviously meaning he knew something that Hermione didn’t.

 

“Why the look, Draco? What’s going on with Pansy?”

 

“Nothing,” he gulped guiltily, before turning and heading toward the shower.

 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Hermione called after him.

 

“Nothing. Nothing at all, love. Why don’t you join me in the shower and scrub my back for me?” Draco joked, trying to change the subject away from Pansy, and the reason he knew why Hermione hadn’t seen her around. 

 

If Hermione had been watching closely enough, instead of hiding herself away like she had been, she would have observed just what the Slytherin witch had been up to. It wasn’t Draco’s place to spill the beans on the little secret he’d discovered.

 

“Urgh… you’re impossible, Malfoy.” Hermione told the blond’s retreating back.

 

“But you love me anyway,” he shot back over his shoulder. 

 

Hermione blushed beet red before extricating herself from Blaise’s embrace and stomping off to her room, muttering about annoying Slytherins and their impossible secrets.

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco and Blaise had been correct again. Hermione had enjoyed herself at the Slytherin party and it  _ had _ been good to catch up with Pansy. The Gryffindor had indulged in more alcohol than she would have liked while talking with her friend, and didn’t realise how drunk she had become until Blaise came over to the sofa she was sitting on with Pansy, holding out his hand for her to take so he and Draco could escort her back to their dorm. She swayed slightly as she stood, Blaise catching her around the waist and pulling her into his arms as she rested her head against his chest. Hermione sighed happily as her nose nuzzled the side of his neck, inhaling that now familiar woody, musky smell of Blaise. Her tongue darted out to leave little licks against his skin before her lips pressed small kisses to the underside of his jaw. Hermione watched his throat bob as he gulped, calling for Draco. 

 

The blond looked round, his eyes wide as he watched Hermione’s actions, before making his way over to them to shield her from prying eyes. Some of the students were taking a keen interest in what was going on between the Head Girl and Boy. 

 

“Time to go, kitten,” Draco whispered into her ear, pulling her away from Blaise, slipping his own arm around her waist, and guiding her towards the door. 

 

“But Blaise smells so good. I wanna liiick him,” Hermione pouted.

 

Draco snorted at her drunken words and heard Blaise laugh behind him. Both wizards said a quick goodbye to Pansy over their shoulders before exiting the Slytherin dungeon and helping their inebriated witch back to their room. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Draco sat Hermione on the end of her bed, kneeling before her to remove the trainers she had on, rolling his eyes at her Muggle footwear. He felt her hands smooth through his hair and lifted his head to look at her. 

 

“You’re so pretty, Draco,” she hiccuped, followed by a giggle. “Oops.”

 

“And you’re so drunk, kitten. Why don’t you lie back so I can remove these… what did you call them again? Converse?”

 

Hermione flopped back onto the bed, her arms above her head, her face turned towards the side as she watched Blaise removing his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers. 

 

“Oooh, Blaise is undressing and Draco’s getting me naked. What are you going to do with me, you naughty wizards?”

 

Both men groaned at the same time. 

 

There was  _ plenty  _ they wanted to do with her — but not tonight. Not in the state she was in. 

 

“We’re going to get you into bed. So you can sleep,” Draco whispered as he stood and leaned over her, his nimble fingers undoing the button of her jeans and sliding the zip down. 

 

His warm hands pulled the denim down her thighs, Hermione lifting her bum to help him along. 

 

“Well, that seems a waste. We’ll all be naked and… and… I want you to touch me. Touch me please, Draco.”

 

“I’m Blaise,” the Italian laughed as Hermione watched him slide his shirt off before undoing his trousers and letting them fall to the floor. 

 

“I knoooow that, Blaisey. I like watching you undress but Draco is taking my clothes off and I want him to touch me… here,” she purred as her hands smoothed down her body, her fingers resting at the waistband of the lace knickers she was wearing. 

 

“Merlin, Granger, you’re killing us. Stop talking,” Draco growled, pulling her jeans from her feet and throwing them behind him. He reached for the hem of her T-shirt, rolling the material up her body, exposing the matching lace bra she wore. Hermione moved her arms again to help him remove the offending fabric in the way of Draco’s fingers touching her where she wanted. 

 

The blond pulled the shirt over her head and threw that in the same direction as the jeans before covering her body with his own. 

 

Blaise joined them on the bed, lying on his side, his head propped up in his hand as he watched his partners. 

 

Hermione looked up into Draco’s dark, grey eyes, his breathing laboured as his hands circled her head. He leaned forward, his lips meeting her parted ones, his tongue sliding into the warm cavern of her mouth. She tasted of the firewhisky she’d consumed and that brought him back to the present. 

 

“There will be no touching tonight, kitten.” He breathed against her lips. “We’re not going to start something we all know you’ll regret in the morning.” 

 

Draco removed himself from her body, standing up to start undressing himself. 

 

Hermione whined at the loss of contact with his hard body, before turning her head to look at Blaise. 

 

“He’s being a baby. Kiss me, Blaise.” 

 

Blaise did as he was told and rolled himself over her body, his lips descending onto hers.

 

Draco scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled loudly as he also removed his clothes, down to his tight, black boxers. Watching Blaise lay over Hermione, their mouths locked together, hearing her little pants and moans, had him rock-hard. 

 

He walked around the side of the bed. Blaise, seeing the movement from the corner of his eye, raised his head to look up at him. 

 

“Let’s get under the covers, shall we?”

 

Blaise moved Hermione, while Draco pulled back the duvet and helped his boyfriend settle their witch in the bed, pulling the duvet over them all. 

 

Hermione immediately turned into Draco, her arm coming around his neck so she could pull him forward to kiss him again. He moaned into her mouth as Hermione arched her back, her lace covered breasts pushing against his bare chest. 

 

“I still want you to touch me, Draco. Please,” she mumbled against his full lips.

 

“I am touching you, witch,” he answered as his hands rubbed up and down her back. “And this is the most either of us will touch you tonight. You’re drunk and we aren’t going to take advantage of that fact. If you still wish for us to move forward, then that’s something we can discuss in the morning.”

 

“Urgh,” Hermione huffed, throwing herself back against the pillows and away from Draco’s embrace. “Why do you both have to be so chivalrous?”

 

“Trust us, Cara. You’ll be thanking us in the morning. And we’d rather like it if you could actually remember the first time we make love to you.” Blaise grinned against the side of her neck as he peppered, warm, wet kisses down her throat. 

 

“Whatever,” Hermione fired back grumpily. 

 

“Now who’s being a baby?” Draco smirked. “Go to sleep, Hermione. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

 

He gave her a quick kiss before pulling her back into his arms, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder as she sighed softly, closing her eyes, breathing in his fresh scent. 

 

Blaise curled his arm around her waist, his cheek resting between her shoulder blades as they all settled down to sleep. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Hermione woke the next morning to an empty bed, the smell of coffee assaulting her senses in a delicious way, her head thumping. She groaned as she rolled over, spotting the small bottle of hangover cure her wizards had left on the bedside table. She gingerly sat up, grabbed the bottle and drank the contents down in one swallow. Waiting a few seconds for the headache to start abating, she yawned and stretched, getting up and grabbing her dressing gown, then making her way out of the bedroom to greet her boyfriends. 

 

A devious smirk graced her lips as she entered the common room, walking up to both wizards, placing a kiss on each of their cheeks before taking Draco’s coffee from his hand, and walking back towards the bathroom. 

 

“Draco,” she called, glancing over her shoulder at the surprised blond who was looking at where his mug had just been. He arched one of his pale blond eyebrows in answer as she replied. 

 

“Just so you know… I’m quite sober now, and I still meant what I said last night.” She had the audacity to wink at him, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. 

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Sorry for the late update!! Real life has been a little crazy and a lot stressful recently. There may be a couple or more weeks before the next chapter, but I will not abandon this story. I just need extra time to sort out some other issues right now.
> 
> coyg_81


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been a while. I won’t go this long again without updating. Hope you’re all still with me! To make up for it I’ve treated you all to a small serving of lemon pie… hehehe!

This Life

Chapter Twenty-Two

~•~•~•~

 

A knock on the door startled Hermione from her concentration as she dropped more Essence of Murtlap than necessary into the bubbling cauldron in front of her. She groaned as she watched what should have been a pale green substance turn dark purple and start to congeal. 

 

“Come in,” she cried out in frustration. 

 

Two hours of work would now need to be scrubbed from the ruined cauldron and whoever was at the door would be the one to do it, she thought testily. 

 

A mop of ginger hair appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Hermione, I was just—” Ron quickly shut his mouth, noticing the angry look on his friend’s face. 

 

“Ronald,” she seethed through clenched teeth. 

 

“What happened?” Ron gulped nervously, stepping into the damp, steamy classroom. 

 

“You startled me and I ruined the potion.” Hermione turned back to the mess in front of her, cleaning everything up with her wand — except the cauldron — which she levitated over to the sink. “You can clean that while I start again.”

 

“But Mione—” Ron grumbled. 

 

“No buts, Ronald. I need to get this potion made tonight and now I’m hours behind.”

 

The ginger-haired wizard whinged under his breath but knew better than to start an argument with his friend when she had a project to complete. He made his way over to the sink and began cleaning the dirty cauldron, listening to Hermione begin to chop more ingredients. 

 

They worked in silence for a few minutes before he asked what she was doing there.

 

“Slughorn asked if I would help make some potions for St Mungo’s. They lost quite a few employees in the battle and now they’re short of some vital potions and medicines.” Hermione shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal while Ron smiled at his friend, proud of what she was doing to help those in need. He knew she wouldn’t want the praise, so he turned back to carry on cleaning her ruined cauldron. 

 

 Hermione asked how he knew where she was. 

 

“I went to your dorm. Zabini said you were down here and wanted to be left alone.”

 

“So you decided to come anyway?”

 

“Well… yeah. Despite what Zabini said, I knew you wouldn’t refuse to see me, and I wanted to talk to you before tomorrow.” He stopped scrubbing and turned around, completely oblivious as usual. 

 

Hermione stopped her chopping, both hands gripping the edge of the table as she looked up at him. 

 

“What about it?” She asked nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. 

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“I… I’m okay, Ron, really.”

 

This time Ron sighed as he made his way over to stand at the other side of the table. 

 

“This is me, Hermione. Be honest, please.”

 

“Okay then… I… well… I’m a little nervous to be honest,” Hermione admitted, letting go of the work bench to lean back against the one behind her. “Well… not nervous  _ per se _ … apprehensive maybe… anxious. I don’t really know what to expect.”

 

Tomorrow morning would see Ginny Weasley's return to the school and even though McGonagall had told Hermione that the Mind Healer at St Mungos seemed happy enough to let the girl come back — on the condition that she be given permission to come into the hospital every Saturday for therapy — they couldn’t see an issue with her return. 

 

Apparently Ginny had recognised that she had a problem and was willing to take the time to sort through it with professionals. She had told her mother and father that she needed to make amends with Hermione and owed the witch more than just a simple apology. 

 

“I’ve spoken to Mum and Dad. They seem to think this Mind Healer Gin’s been seeing has already done wonders with her and that a week at home talking with just the three of them has seen a change with her attitude as well,” Ron explained. 

 

“That’s what McGonagall told me when I went to see her earlier. It’s just…” Hermione broke off, unsure of how to voice her concerns. 

 

“Just what?”

 

“I have no issue with Ginny coming back here, Ron. But I’d rather not speak to her — or have to interact with her at all. I just want her to stay away from me.”

 

“Oh, Hermione,” Ron said sadly, coming around the bench to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I know what she did was awful and the way she’s treated you has been no better, but Mum and Dad seem to think that her apologising to you would really help on her road to recovery. It’s like closure or something, they said. I didn’t really understand most of it, but don’t you think it would be good for the two of you to finally clear the air?” Ron wasn’t his sister’s biggest fan; he loved Hermione intensely, and worried about her more than anyone, but Ginny  _ was  _ his family and, from what his parents had said, she’d been going through a lot of stuff for a long time. 

 

“Mental illness is apparently something that runs in the family,” he continued. “First I heard of it when I spoke to Mum today but our great aunt Tessie suffered with demons all her life, and eventually ended up being taken into St Mungos full-time. As much as I hate the way Gin has been with you, if there’s a chance she can be helped, then I want to make that happen for her.” He was appealing to the side of Hermione’s nature that always needed to help, no matter the situation or personal cost to herself. 

 

“I know, I was told earlier, but… well… I suppose we’ll see what happens tomorrow, won’t we?” Hermione rested her head against Ron’s shoulder, his comforting embrace had always helped soothe her. They may not have worked out as boyfriend and girlfriend, but she was thankful for having him in her life as a friend. Ron was the dependable one, the one who would aggressively fight for her no matter what. He had really matured over the course of the last two years — war could do that to people — and she was grateful for him. Sure, he had a temper — and they did argue about stupid stuff from time to time — but overall she knew she could always rely on him. He had sought her out to make sure she was alright and, even though she’d asked to be left alone, she knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d seen for himself that she was truly okay. 

 

“Harry and I can be with you tomorrow, you know. Or just me. I don’t know how he feels about all of this — and breaking up with Gin was hard for him — but you’ll always come first to us, Mione. We love you so much, and we just want you to be alright.”

 

“I know,” Hermione sighed against his chest, inhaling his spearmint scent. “Ginny is going to Floo into McGonagall's office in the morning and I’ve to expect her to call me at some point. She didn’t just want to let Ginny go without having us both in the same room first.” She stepped back from her friend’s embrace, looking into his bright blue eyes. “And anyway, Draco and Blaise have already offered to escort me there.”

 

Ron shook his head. “Sorry,  _ Draco and Blaise? _ When did you get friendly enough with those snakes to start calling them both by their first names, Hermione?” His tone suddenly had a slight edge to it.

 

_ Oh, God! Well, now is as good a time as any to confess. _

 

“About that, Ron. I… well, I need to tell you something and I need you to  _ not _ fly off your broomstick about it.” She reached for his hands, gripping them tightly as she looked into his curious eyes. “The thing is… I’m… we… we are—“

 

“You’re seeing Zabini, right?”

 

“What? No… I mean, yes… no… well… sort of—“ Ron laughed at her obvious distress. It wasn’t like Hermione to get so flustered. His bright eyes bellied the swooping in his stomach. 

 

_ There was no way she could be seeing Malfoy! Could she? _

 

“Tell me it’s not Ferret Face, Mione, please!”

 

“Oh, God,” she cried, pulling her hands from his and turning away from him, her head in her hands. 

 

“It is, isn’t it? You’re… you’re seeing Draco Malfoy,” Ron whispered in complete shock. 

 

“It’s not like that,” Hermione mumbled from beneath her hands. 

 

Ron turned her back around, removing her hands from her face, placing his own on her shoulders, and looking down into her dark brown eyes. She looked terrified.

 

“What’s it like then, Hermione? Tell me.” He spoke calmly, trying not to show how worried he was, or that his insides were doing somersaults as he put two and two together and — for once — came up with four. “If it’s not Malfoy  _ or _ Zabini, it’s got to be both of them. Are you seeing both of them, Mione?”

 

Hermione nodded slowly, swallowing heavy as she finally admitted the truth to her best friend. 

 

“Merlin… fuck… I…  _ what?” _ Ron spluttered, his grip on her shoulders tightened. He had fully expected her to call him ridiculous for even thinking such a thing!

 

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I knew you’d go mad… I—“

 

“Mad? No. Furious? Yes. Completely shocked? Very much so.” He drew back from her, his backside hitting the desk behind him as he sighed loudly. 

 

“How in the hell did you end up in a relationship with Malfoy  _ and  _ Zabini?” 

 

Well, he wasn’t ranting and raving — which is what Hermione had been expecting, so she drew herself up, determined to have it out with him. 

 

She started at the beginning, explaining how she’d passed out in front of Malfoy, and continuing with his first apology at the lake. She then went on to talk about spending time with both of them, hearing them admit what they felt for her, and how they’d looked after her like she was a piece of fragile porcelain. She finished with them both admitting to loving her, vowing to always protect her, and do everything in their power to make her happy. 

 

“Wow, Hermione. I don’t even know what to say. This… this is a lot to take in. I—“ Ron knew what he  _ wanted  _ to say but he didn’t want her getting upset with him. 

 

“You, what?” She whispered. She still couldn’t quite believe he’d listened without judgement or completely losing his cool with her. 

 

Ron ran a hand through his hair in disbelief, starting to speak but then stopping again.

 

“Just spit it out, Ron, for God's sake.” Hermione had never seen him lost for words; it was disconcerting. 

 

“You would expect me to throw a complete fit, wouldn't you?” Hermione could only nod in response at his calm acquiescence. “But I find myself not really having an issue with it. Let me explain first,” he continued, holding up his hand to stop her interrupting him. “I'm shocked, yes, but I can't deny that Malfoy has changed over the last couple of years. He never gave us away when we were brought to the Manor — he actually looked as sick as I'd ever seen him before. We’re never going to be best friends but, at the end of the day,  _ you are  _ my best friend and I only want you to be happy, Mione. If that means being with the ferret then… well… alright… I'll deal with it.” 

 

He sighed loudly, running a hand through his mop of red hair as he continued. “As for Zabini, I've never really spoken to the bloke, I don't know him, but I trust your judgement. The way he was with you after… well, after what happened, it's clear he cares about you. What I  _ don't _ get is you're in a relationship with them both. How does that work between Malfoy and Zabini?”

 

Hermione swallowed heavily and told him the true nature of Draco and Blaise’s relationship. 

 

“Figures,” Ron smirked. “Malfoy always was a bit of a pansy.”

 

“Ron!” Hermione shouted, outraged at his blatant homophobia. 

 

“Only joking,” he cringed at her anger; no one liked to see Hermione lose her cool. “I’ve no problem with it. Charlie and me have a bet on about when Perce’ll come out.”

 

Both friends looked at each other for a few minutes, Ron’s brow furrowed as he thought about what Hermione had told him. He knew that it must have been hard for her to admit to him about the new relationship she now found herself in, and he would definitely be having the  _ big brother  _ talk with the two Slytherins who had captured her heart. 

 

Sighing loudly he stepped back towards Hermione and wrapped his arms around her waist, the two longtime friends hugging. “As long as you're happy, Mione, then I am too. I'm not saying  _ I'm _ happy about it but... if that's what you want, then fine. And I take it Harry already knows?”

 

“Thank you, Ron. That means so much to me. Yes, Harry knows. I was worried about your reaction and didn’t want to tell you, and you've really surprised me so... thank you.  I need you and Harry in my life, and I love you both so much.” 

 

“We love you too, Mione,” he replied stepping back from her and smiling, not surprised that Harry knew about her new relationship. Ron had enough on his mind anyway with his family. “How about I help you with the rest of this potion and then walk you back to your room?”

 

Hermione snorted, knowing full well Ron would be more of a hindrance than a help so, instead, asked him to stay and keep her company while she worked. 

 

~•~•~•~

 

Bidding Snape a good evening, and saying goodbye to Ron, Hermione stepped through the door to find Draco reclining on the sofa, reading a book. He looked up, beckoning her over to him. 

 

Hermione swallowed, slightly nervous as she hadn’t seen him since she’d said she wanted him to touch her on the way to the shower that morning. 

 

“Where’s Blaise?” She asked, sitting down next to him as he moved to make room. 

 

“He’s overseeing a detention for Flitwick. Something about emergency choir practice or some nonsense.” Draco shrugged. 

 

“Emergency choir practice? What the—“

 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really that interested to be honest, but Blaise won’t be back until later so I thought we could spend some time together… just you and I.” 

 

Hermione swallowed heavily. She hadn’t seen either of her wizards since that morning when she’d made it obvious she was ready for  _ more _ with them, and now she didn’t know what to say.

 

“About this morning—”

 

“I wanted to talk to you—”

 

They both spoke at the same time and then laughed nervously. 

 

Draco rubbed his hand across his face, exhaling loudly and turning to look at her, his hands resting on her knees. 

 

She looked down, her face flushing crimson beneath the halo of her curls as Draco spoke.

 

“Hermione, look at me.” 

 

She did as he asked, raising her face to meet his gaze. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, and you know there’s nothing Blaise and I want more than to take things further with you, but—” he sighed “—we weren’t prepared for that to happen while you were drunk. We don’t want you regretting anything when it comes to us, Hermione. I—”

 

He paused, his nervousness showing.

 

“You what?” Hermione whispered, waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

 

“I don’t want to mess it up, Hermione. I’ve waited so long for you.” 

 

One of his hands cupped her face, his thumb caressing her jaw as he inclined his head to touch his lips softly to hers. 

 

Hermione sighed against his mouth, leaning into his embrace, the hand on her face moving to slide around to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her curls, bringing her closer to him.

 

She moved until she was cradled in his lap, Draco’s other hand resting against her hip as they continued to kiss. Their tongues moved together as he nipped and licked her full, bottom lip. 

 

Hermione’s hands came up to delve into his soft, blond hair, pulling at the roots and making him gasp into her mouth. 

 

They pulled apart, both breathing heavily as they pressed their foreheads together.

 

“Draco,” Hermione breathed heavily, “I would never regret anything that happens between us from here on out, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness for not taking things further last night.”

 

He groaned, pressing his lips back on hers in a chaste kiss and then moving her back onto the couch so he could stand. 

 

She looked up at him, her wide, innocent, doe eyes, watching his hand reach down as he whispered, “Come with me.” She slid her hand into his and allowed him to pull her from the sofa and guide her across to her bedroom.

 

Once they were inside the room, Draco sat Hermione down on the end of the bed and knelt before her, removing her plain, black flats and knee-high socks. 

 

She leaned back on her elbows, watching him through hooded eyes as she felt his hands begin to massage each of her feet in turn, sliding his talented fingers around her ankles and up her calves, kneading the muscles as he went.

 

Draco knelt up as his fingers reached her knees, caressing small circles around her flesh until he leaned forward slightly, his hands moving further up her legs, under the grey school skirt she had on. 

 

Hermione’s skin was tingling in the wake of his soft touches, her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies as she felt his hands move higher, ghosting up the soft skin of her inner thighs.

 

“Do you trust me, Hermione?” Draco whispered huskily, his thumbs digging into her supple flesh.  

 

“Yes,” she breathed, trying to control the acute surge of desire welling inside her. 

 

Draco gathered up her skirt in his hands and slid it up her body until it bunched around her waist, his fingers tracing back down her hips, slipping under the waistband of her plain white cotton underwear.

 

“Okay?” He asked, looking down, watching her eyes darken with need, her chest heave below her white Oxford. Hermione’s fingers were clenched into the bedding either side of her and she nodded her confirmation that she was fine with what he was doing.

 

Draco dragged the knickers down her legs, pulling them all the way off and letting them drop at his feet as he stood, leaning over her. 

 

Hermione’s hands came up, frantically reaching for him as she pressed her mouth against his. 

 

He groaned at the forcefulness of her attack, his arms coming around her head, holding her in place below him. 

 

As Hermione moved her lips over his, her hands slid down the sides of his neck and over his collarbone to the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one, his warm skin tingling beneath her fingertips.

 

Feeling her small hands graze across his stomach to the belt of his trousers, Draco lifted himself off of her, standing between her legs at the end of the bed and removing his now open shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

 

Hermione never tired of seeing his lithe form — rounded shoulders that melted into a firm, tight chest and stomach, his hips tapering in that perfect ‘V’ shape, giving a hint of what lay beneath. His pale skin was marred with a litany of different scars, the most prominent a thin silver jagged line that ran from just under his right collarbone, diagonally across his chest, to just under the band of his trousers on the left side. A permanent reminder of his duel with Harry back in sixth year. 

 

“You’re staring,” he grinned, catching her perusal.

 

“So are you.” Hermione could feel the heat suffuse her cheeks as Draco looked down at her nakedness, hungrily licking his lips.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he told her as he once again sunk to the floor, his hands grabbing her knees and pushing her legs wide. 

 

Hermione watched on in wonder as he lowered his head to her centre and licked a line up her wet slit.

 

She cried out at the onslaught of pleasure that saturated every part of her being, her hips arched off the mattress and Draco moved one hand up to her stomach to hold her down, his tongue moving to circle her clit in slow, unhurried movements.

 

“Oh… oh, my…” Hermione couldn’t describe the feeling of having his mouth on her like that. He kept up his torturously slow place, savouring her sweet nectar as it dripped from her. She felt her nipples stiffen into hard peaks inside the confines of her cotton bra as she grabbed at her breasts.

 

Draco ran one finger down her centre, swirling it around her hole before pushing just inside, her tight walls clamping down hard on the invasion. He used the flat of his tongue to lick at her with no coherent thought to his movements. He couldn’t focus on a rhythm or any preferred movement; he just continued to nip her engorged bud while his finger moved in and out.

 

Hermione had never felt anything like it; her whole world narrowed to the point where she couldn’t think about anything except what the blond between her legs was doing. 

 

“Come, kitten. I want you to come on my mouth,” he growled against her dripping folds, slowly adding another finger to mimic the first, pulling out then thrusting back in slightly harder.

 

Hermione screamed his name as her whole body froze in agonizing pleasure, wave after wave of ecstasy washing through her. She was shaking as her thighs clenched around his head, the force of her orgasm making her see white spots behind her eyelids as Draco continued to attack her clit, sucking on it until she cried out that she couldn’t take anymore. 

 

Coming down from the high, she sunk back into the mattress, her hands digging into Draco's scalp to pull his head away from her overly sensitive pussy. He pressed a kiss against her thigh, slowly looking up and grinning at the completely satiated look on his girlfriend’s face.

 

He removed his trousers, leaving him in dark green boxers, reaching for her skirt and pulling it down her legs to pool on the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. Crawling up her body, he undid the buttons on her school shirt, helping her remove it, then settling down beside her, pulling her into his arms.

 

“Merlin… Draco… that was… I…” She couldn’t form words as her body tingled with aftershocks of what he’d done. 

 

“Now you know how much we really  _ don’t _ mind touching you, Hermione.”

 

Awareness suddenly dawned on the tired witch. “Blaise!” She mumbled guiltily into Draco’s shoulder. 

 

“Don’t worry about, Blaise, baby. We spoke earlier and it’s fine. I promise I won’t go any further without him. Go to sleep and he’ll be here when you wake.”

 

Hermione sighed against Draco’s chest as he adjusted the covers, pulling the duvet up around them as they fell asleep, wrapped around each other.  

 


End file.
